


Until Death

by sweetindulgence (sweetdefault)



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Alexa moves to Alaska and has a kid, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies Relationships, Interspecies Romance, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, This is going to go over great with a giant fucking killer alien, this counts as a slow burn I think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdefault/pseuds/sweetindulgence
Summary: She hoped to leave the horrors of the pyramid behind her in Antarctica sixteen years ago.She should have known a hunter of the black serpents never stops, not until death.
Relationships: Alexa Woods/Yautja (Predator), Predator/Human, Scar & Alexa Woods, Scar/Alexa Woods, Yautja (Predator)/Human
Comments: 122
Kudos: 196





	1. October 1st, 2020

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes Hello and Welcome  
> This is a ScarLex fic where things happen sixteen years after the events of the 2004 film. There's definite canon divergence, with Alexa doing a bunch of things over 16 years, including having a kid. And, y'know, Scar not dying after all. 
> 
> I don't know Alexa's actual background outside the wiki page and movie, but I've tried to make up details that I think would fit. In this story, I put her at 23 for the Antarctica expedition; she is 39 as of chapter 1.  
> Eastcox Falls is a made-up place.

**October 1 st, 2020. 6.am. **

* * *

The sky is dark over Eastcox Falls, Alaska.

Located on the southern coast, roughly one-hundred-and-thirty-three miles east of the town of Seward, Eastcox Falls earns its name for a set of local waterfalls visible come summer. It is a small town with a population of five-hundred residents, only half of whom stay year-round. During the fishing season, tourists fill the normally lonely streets and turn the town into a bustling, lively meeting place. This year has been unfortunate for Eastcox Falls business owners. Amid a global pandemic, tourists have sheltered in place and avoided traveling over the fishing season. The town remains quiet and desolate, with only an occasional plane flying in supplies ordered from the state capital, Anchorage.

Two miles west of the town’s borders is a small home. A ranch-style building, with a few modern touches to its one-level architecture sprawling across the otherwise picturesque landscape. It has a one-car garage capable of fitting a truck, and its windows are tinted to allow one to see out versus in. The house nestles into the land as if a pup clinging to its parent; there is no visible yard in the front or back. A gas-powered generator rests next to a shed off to the right of the building, keeping a pile of wood and an axe company, but the rest of the ground is untouched. Pine needles need raking. Native plants push through recent snowfalls.

It would be easy to miss the house driving past. It blends into the environment, painted with muted colors and foregoing all finery outside the colossal front door and a set of tiny cameras and light fixtures attached to the outside walls. It appears to be the perfect hideaway for a person who wants to forget the world and find solace in isolation.

When her smartwatch begins vibrating painfully, it is exactly what Alexa Woods wants to do: _forget._ It is six in the morning, the sky is dark, and the thirty-nine-year-old woman is a mess in pink pajamas with mismatching pants. Her black hair is strewn about her head, disheveled, and she doesn’t bother to brush it as she groans and rolls over on her mattress. She doesn’t try to fall back asleep; her brown eyes flutter open and she stares at the darkness of her bedroom, an empty place with minimum furniture and unpacked boxes of a lifetime past.

“Happy birthday to me.” She mumbles, turning off her alarm. She turns on the lamp at her bedside and pulls herself out of bed, staggering to the connecting bathroom. Her eyes burn and she winces when she flips the light switch. The mirror comes on and the woman stares at herself, unimpressed. She is exhausted. Noticeable wrinkles tug at her face from stress. Bags hide under her eyes. She parts her lips and lifts hands to her face, then recoils when one of her hands touches the mark.

Two lines, one slanting vertically and the other curving over the former like the arc of a throwing knife.

 _Black serpent._ Is all she can think as she smashes her palm against the bathroom counter. _Fucking rot, all of you!_

Lex pulls open a drawer, retrieves a cup, and fills it. She begins the day by taking three small pills: one white, two yellow.

She looks at her watch periodically to track the time. It is the illusion of control: she knows the time, she knows herself, she knows what awaits her. The woman pulls open another drawer and fishes out her makeup. The brand is out-of-state, _Evangeline and Angels_ , and she relies on it for day-to-day use.

The first is her primer; she applies it with a little round brush made of sponge. Next is the foundation—It comes in liquid form, suitable for layering under concealer. Lex takes her time rubbing it over the scars. She takes a fat, fluffy brush and blends it into her skin. The _black serpent_ does not disappear, but the foundation obscures it enough for the concealer to do its job. She squeezes out the color, a glob of cool liquid on her finger, and she marks herself with the concealer just as someone once did to herself. She paints the _black serpent_ on her skin over the scars. She blends the edges gently and squints in the mirror.

It is close, but her skin has an undertone of green. Lex plucks her palette from the drawer and opens it. Her palette of choice is _Coastal Hues_ , with a set of beautiful browns, beiges, an ivory, a gold, and varying shades of blue and green. She only needs the brown and green tones; she will not touch the gold, never the gold. The gold reminds her of otherworldly eyes— _his_ otherworldly eyes.

She does not use the gold.

Her watch beeps at her.

* * *

**Seven a.m.**

* * *

Alexa Woods finishes the morning ritual. It is the same every day of every week of every month of every year for the last _eleven._ Since finishing her outpatient program and discovering makeup, it has served to dissociate herself from the horrifying ordeal. It gives her control over the impulses, the hyper-vigilance, and the paranoia. It lets her take care of _Kasey_ , and Kasey is her world.

Today, she dresses in warm cotton clothes, all neutral colors with her shirt possessing a subtle camouflage pattern to the fabric. She pulls on thick socks, boots, and straps a knife, sheathed, to her right calf. Today, she will triple-check the locations of every weapon stored in the house. She will examine locks, test motion detectors, and ensure her security cameras are functioning. She will chop up wood for the coming storm, bring in logs, and review the manual for her gas generator.

Kasey will sit in front of the _family_ P.C. and attend online classes until twelve. If Lex is lucky, no calls from in-laws or the two’s nosy neighbor will come. The day will pass in routine. Maybe Kasey will want to watch a movie; the satellite internet is poor, but it can play Netflix well enough. She recalls Kasey talking about a cartoon she wants to see the other day. Lex plucks a brush from her bedside table and begins to mess with her hair; she regrets not asking Kasey to write down the name.

* * *

**Eight a.m.**

* * *

The sun rises. Clouds hang over the horizon. Three days, the weather reports said. The storm of a century.

* * *

**Nine a.m.**

* * *

Breakfast has come and gone; cereal never changes, not even with milk, yet Kasey’s toothy grin has never been more vibrant with Fruit Loops strewn across the table in her haste to eat before school. Her daughter is in class in fluffy Stitch-themed pajamas and Lex doesn’t have the heart to make her get dressed.

Absentmindedly, she scratches her cheek and freezes when concealer comes off. The woman hides her face in her hand and runs from the kitchen down the hall leading to her room. She dashes inside the bathroom and fumbles for her make-up, not relaxing until the _black serpent_ is no more, lost under the layers obfuscating the terror. Her daughter continues to chat with her classmates about her recent project, building a feeder for local _pine siskin_ s. Lex breathes in relief and returns to the kitchen to finish washing dishes.

* * *

**Eleven a.m.**

* * *

Her phone rings.

She looks at the number and silences it. A minute later, it chimes to indicate she has a voicemail from her mom. Her mother sounds tired but in good spirits, wishing her a happy birthday and asking her and Kasey to call back.

 _Later._ Alexa thinks. _Kasey can._

* * *

**Twelve p.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps just as Kasey skips through her bedroom doorway. Instinctively, Lex whirls around and goes for one of the hidden knives—an eight-inch blade of serrated steel, the sheathe bolted to the underside of her bedside table) She touches it before recognizing her daughter. She breathes shakily as Kasey laughs.

“Happy birthday, mom!” Kasey grins, revealing her lost front tooth. “Did I scare you?”

Lex exhales. “Yeah—Yes, you did, pumpkin.”

“Sorry,” the child frowns, her brown eyes dimming. She perks up a moment later, her mind already moved on to other things, “Oh—But—I made you something!”

Lex’s eyes soften. She strides forward. “What is it, pumpkin?”

“Tada!” Kasey shows her hands, which contain a folded piece of paper. She dances after handing it over, spinning in circles.

Lex looks from her hands to her daughter as she carefully lifts certain folds of the paper. It is an origami piece. When she lifts two wings, the gift becomes clear: it is a bird. Alexa smiles wider. “What kind of bird did you make me?”

“It’s a dove! Like the chocolate!” Kasey stops her spins and nods vigorously. As Lex continues to turn the origami bird over, Kasey runs up and gestures at the head of the papercraft. “I colored its head so it looks like you—Do you like it, mom?”

When she peers at the origami, Lex feels her breath catch in her throat. She forces herself to smile and nods at her daughter, the light of her life and her world.

“I love it.” Alexa says. “You went through all this for me, pumpkin?”

“Miss Camille and Wanda helped—” As Kasey begins to rattle off her story of the origami dove, Lex turns and puts the papercraft on her bedside table. Her brown eyes glaze over.

On the bird’s head are two lines in sharpie: the mark of the _black serpent_.

* * *

**Two p.m.**

* * *

Her mom calls her. She misses the first two rings before picking it off the floor of her bedroom. Lex stares at it and answers with a calm, “Mum—”

“Alexa Woods! Oh, I am beyond chuffed to hear you pick up—Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been calling, sweetheart?”

“Once.” Lex cuts her off. “You called once. At… You called at eight p.m., if I did my maths correctly. And now it’s—eleven at night there? Why are you calling so late, mum?”

“Are you daft, Lexie? It’s your birthday! I’m gutted you didn’t pick up the first time, sweetheart, every woman should celebrate their birthday with family—”

“I’m not ‘every woman’, mum. It isn’t my cup of tea.” Lex sighs into the phone as her mother rambles for several minutes. When her patience runs thin, she cuts the woman off in a loud, “Mum! Would you like to talk to Kasey? Pumpkin’s been asking of you all morning—” Lex cannot help but smile when she hears her daughter leap up in the kitchen and come sprinting down the hall to her bedroom. Kasey’s big brown eyes are full of excitement; she skips forward and reaches for the phone while Lex smiles at her and hands it over through her mother’s aghast babbles.

* * *

**Three p.m.**

* * *

Lex brings in the foil-covered carrot cake from the front porch. It is a hefty, dense thing, but a sweet gift from the old woman who lives two miles out. Camille is nothing if nosy, but the nosy lady has a good heart, even if she drives Lex up a wall half the time.

Her watch beeps to alert her of the time. Her brown eyes reflect resolve, because the watch is one of the few ways she exerts control over her circumstances. In the pyramid, in the heinous, frozen hellscape of an ancient alien training grounds, she remembers it giving Sebastien and herself a sense of control. Ten minutes, the pyramid would change. Ten minutes. Ten minutes. Ten. Her eyes water but she wipes them quickly. Counting the hours gives her purpose, it gives her the illusion of control; in a world where she fears both humanity and those of the stars, she needs to convince herself she has control. She can do this.

By the time Kasey finds her in the kitchen, Lex is in ‘control’ once more. She smiles at her daughter’s delight and eagerness to fetch plates and forks.

“Momma! We’re out of knives again.” Kasey shows her the empty cutlery drawer.

Lex shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. We’re out of butter knives, pumpkin, but if you close your eyes real tight, momma might be able to pull something out of thin air.”

“Like magic?” Kasey ooh’s and ah’s. She begins to bounce on her heels, hands squeezed into excited fists.

“Only one way to find out,” Lex taps her daughter’s nose and leans back against the counter. She crosses her arms and smiles, quirking a brow when Kasey stares.

“Do I have to close my eyes?”

“Magic doesn’t work if you see it. That’s why you close your eyes when blowing out your candles, pumpkin.” Alexa’s gaze softens.

“You never have any candles—” Kasey frowns and looks at the cake in Camille’s square ceramic pan. “What if you wanna make a wish?”

“What would I wish for?” Lex scoffs playfully. “I have everything I want right _here,_ ” she steps forward and plops a hand down on Kasey’s head of small black braids.

Kasey pushes her hand away and huffs. “You don’t have candles! _Or_ a knife!”

“Soon I won’t have a cake, either,” Lex grins ear-to-ear.

* * *

**Five p.m.**

* * *

The two eat in the living room, where the movie _Ponyo_ plays on the computer. Tonight, dinner is stew: venison in rich, hearty broth with chunks of assorted vegetables and fragrant spices filling the room. Kasey’s eyes are glued to the screen, observing every second of the cute Studio Ghibli film. Lex breathes out in relief and lets her head rest against her sofa’s back. She is almost through the day, with only minimal chaos from the world. Her stress is high, but not as heightened as it has been in the past.

Outside, the sun has not yet set. It will grow dark in time, and the world will become a bitterly cold wasteland for the unprepared. Lex resists the urge to snort at the irony; sixteen years later and the place she finds comfort in is _incredibly similar_ to the source of her nightmares.

Kasey leans over and rests her head against Lex’s arm. Alexa smiles, drawn from the thoughts of the rest of the world and what comes from the space beyond it.

“Would dad have liked this movie?” The question is abrupt, innocent, uncertain but curious.

 _Nikoli._ Lex’s heart does not ache as much as it did eight years past, but it stings. She forces a smile on her lips, nodding. “He had a thing for Studio Ghibli movies. Ponyo wasn’t his favorite, but he thought it was cute. He loved the fish.”

“What was his job?” Kasey relaxes against her.

“He was a marine conservationist.” When Kasey squints at her, Lex laughs and shakes her head. “He liked the ocean. He _loved_ turtles. Do you know he wrote a whole paper on turtles? Turtles around _Australia.”_

“Good. Turtles are cool.” Kasey nods. She is quiet a moment before she looks up at Lex and frowns. “Would he have liked me?”

“Oh, pumpkin. You were the light in his life," Lex leans down and kisses her daughter’s forehead. "You may not remember him, but he loved you to the moon and back."

"More than turtles?" Her daughter's eyes grow big.

Alexa laughs and nods. "Way more than turtles."

* * *

**Six p.m.**

* * *

The power goes out right as Lex’s watch beeps. When flipping breakers does nothing, Lex begrudgingly admits it is time to rev the generator.

It is how she winds up outside as the sun begins to drift closer to the horizon, not quite dipping beneath but beginning its descent. Lex huffs in her coat as she shuts the back door of her house. Kasey is already running around the snow, laughing and pointing out icicles on nearby trees. The two, dressed in big rubber boots, mitts, hats, and their coats, venture to the diesel generator.

Lex works while her daughter plays; Kasey flops on the ground and begins making snow-angels with no care for the person doing the laundry when the two get back inside.

The generator needs fuel. Lex unlocks the shed door and pulls it open. It is still light enough to see, even without any windows in the shed, and plenty cold from slits along the walls of the shed for ventilation. She listens to Kasey laugh and play in the snow as she hauls a heavy red canister out of the shed and returns to the generator. Filling it doesn’t take long. Lex pulls the cord connecting the generator to her home before she begins the start-up process.

She doesn’t know how the ins and outs of the machine work, but she knows enough to get it running. Lex turns the fuel valve and switches the choke rod to half run. She turns the ignition switch and checks on Kasey before proceeding; her daughter has begun making a ‘snowman’ out of a mush of pine needles, small plants, and snow. Lex returns to the generator; she grabs the recoil cord and yanks it. When it doesn’t work, she pulls it again. She grimaces at it and pulls it a third time, feeling resistance before she lets go. The engine of the generator kicks on; Lex switches the choke to run. She reconnects the cord leading to her house. It takes a minute, but the outside lights come on— _success._

“There we go.” Lex exhales in relief. She grabs her chest, unable to believe how hard her heart pounds.

“Mom! Mom! There’s a fox!” Kasey calls to her ten yards away. Lex strides over in time to see her daughter point. 

The sky begins to grow dark overhead, the sun now in the process of setting.

Foxes aren’t uncommon across Alaska, save for the southeastern islands and western Aleutians. Lex grins widely. She _likes_ foxes, and sure enough, fifty yards out, she spots one with a thick black coat. Her brown eyes focus on it and her smile fades.

“Isn’t it cute, mom?” Kasey tugs her arm while Lex stares.

The fox lifts its head up and stares at her. 

Black mouth. White teeth. No eyes. Shining Carapace gleaming between patches of thick black fur.

“I want a pet fox—” Kasey begins, but Lex cuts her off by putting a hand on her arm.

“Kasey, get in the house.” Lex whispers softly.

“But why?” The girl looks up at her, as stubborn as _Nikoli_ was. “What’s going on?”

 _“Get. In. The. House.”_ Her blood begins to pump, heart rate rising, but even in the throes of the past, she is a _mom._ The fox begins running at them while Lex takes Kasey by the hand and bolts for the back door. She shoves her daughter inside, “My bedroom—My gun safe—My shotgun—”

“What—What’s going on? _Mom?”_ Kasey is afraid. “Mom!”

 _Black serpent._ She remembers the pyramid. Her hands tremble as she shuts and deadbolts the door. _Won’t matter. Acid blood. Metal useless—Except—Need gun—Need gun—_

Lex holds in the urge to shriek when the door _shudders_ from something smashing into it. She holds her breath and begs her heart to settle as she throws her back against the door and wills it to hold.

She hears Kasey scream, “Mom!” 

_Fuck these things!_ Lex hears something sizzle; the black serpent has begun corroding the door away. She runs to Kasey and pulls her past the kitchen, down the hall, and into her bedroom. She locks the door behind the two and spins on her heels. “Kasey—Kasey—Pumpkin—”

Her daughter’s eyes are wet with tears. “I’m scared—I’m scared—”

“—Pumpkin, Kasey, Kasey—Listen to me—” Alexa says, hands on Kasey’s shoulders. “Kasey—We have to be quiet—Okay? We have to be quiet,” she forces her shaking voice to lower to a whisper. “That thing out there—That thing wants to hurt us—I’m not gonna let it hurt you, pumpkin—I’m not gonna let it hurt you—” Alexa pushes Kasey at her closet.

“I’m scared,” Kasey repeats, whimpering.

“Stay in there, pumpkin, stay in there, stay quiet—Mom’s gonna deal with this, okay? Okay?” Lex doesn’t know if she’s trying to convince herself or Kasey more, but Kasey nods. Alexa wipes her daughter’s eyes and scrambles for the bed.

She reaches under it and pulls out a massive safe. Her hands tremble as she puts in a six-digit code and flips it open. Her Winchester shotgun lays unloaded with a box of shells on the side. Her hunting rifle sits quietly with loose bullets scattered across the floor of the safe. She fumbles with the shotgun shells, mind blanking in her panic to load them. She drops them in the chaos and curses loudly. Her fingers shake as she stares at the gun.

Sebastien begged her to kill him.

Her eyes well with tears. _Sixteen fucking years_ and she can’t block it out. She can’t do it. She can’t use the damn things she bought to protect herself, to protect her _daughter._ Alexa’s chest tightens and she bites her lip _hard_ , willing the pain to ground her. Her eyes drift to the bottlecap necklace tucked in one corner of the safe. Her dark brown eyes, somber and riddled with guilt, fall upon the one-and-a-half-foot rod of metal, encased in golden-hued alloys she never identified after leaving Antarctica.

Lex hears the back door of the house _break_.

She grabs the rod and spins around. It feels weightless in her hand; her fingers adhere to the alien grip, third finger pressing down into a groove to activate the weapon. Serrated, razor-sharp blades eject from the rod’s center piece, springing forth and turning it from a simple line of metal to a throwing spear. She has used it before, alone, a long time ago—But the memories of _him_ , of the pyramid, of her dead expedition friends, it always comes back when she wields it. This time, the thoughts in her head circle around her daughter, Kasey, her _pumpkin,_ the light of her life and reason to continue living. _She won’t let it touch her daughter._

Lex rises to her feet, heart pounding furiously as she hears something walk down the hall. She shakes, but her grip on the alien weapon tightens. Adrenaline courses her veins; she decides to take the first step. The woman runs to the door, inhales, and unlocks it. She pulls it open slightly and ducks behind, praying the damn thing doesn’t crush her trying to fling itself through anyways. She hears the strange screech, quieter than it should be and _not_ a fox’s call, it brings horrifying images to her head. Her heart pounds wildly in her ears. She holds her breath and wills herself to calm.

She has the mark. She is recognized as a _predator_ , killer of the _black serpents_. She is Alexa Woods, and she would slay a thousand serpents and bomb a thousand temples if it meant keeping her baby girl safe.

When the alien-fox abomination stalks into the room, a long, furry black tail twitching and poised like a scorpion, she takes a quiet breath and steps out from behind the door. She knows the things don’t have eyes, but they have _some_ way of perceiving; she doesn’t hesitate to lift the spear and bring it crashing unto the monster’s form. It hisses, hearing her cry of hate, but it can’t dart out of the way fast enough to avoid the spear lodging itself in its tail and cutting it clean off. Acid blood sprays and begins eroding her hardwood floors while she ducks to the side and avoids the alien scream and globs of acid flung her way.

She hears Kasey begin to cry softly in the closet; Lex leaps out of the way of a lunge and clambers unto her bed, spinning around in time to see the alien-fox pull itself from the wall and twist its head one-eighty degrees to track her. The fox-thing cackles like—fuck she knows—and leaps for her; she grabs a lamp off the bedside table and _smashes_ it into the thing’s face. Acid blood hits her and she _screams_ with agony as she staggers away from the bed, the closet, and dives for her spear.

She’s not fast enough; The alien leaps on her, acid falling on her thick coat. Lex tries not to think about how quickly it burns through the material as she spins and throws her back at the wall _again, again, again_ , until it relents in dropping off and circling. She feels the acid melt through her coat, her jacket, and hit her undershirt and bra, beginning to weep into her skin as she curses a thousand times. She throws herself at her spear, gripping the center in one hand and freeing it from where it’s stuck in the floor. Lex arcs the weapon sideways and slams one end into the alien as it charges. She hits it in the pelvis and pins it to the wall. It cries and hisses as it writhes against her.

Her mind fills with panic as the acid blood continues to sink through her skin. She cries aloud as she unzips her coat and pulls it off, the jacket following. She needs to strip her torso bare, but before she can pull her shirt off, the alien’s blood melts through the end of her spear and it writhes free with a trail of splotched organs following it. It pounces on her and she falls back, crashing into the center of the room and yelling as it attempts to snap its white inner mouth at her head. Lex feels more blood fall on her clothes. She can’t throw it off; her mind races with panic.

 _No, no, no—_ It will go for Kasey once it subdues her, and both will meet the fate her expedition found in the depths of Antarctica. Lex roars in anger and protest, but her strength wanes under the extraterrestrial horror. Her eyes look around frantically; she sees the butchered obsidian tail, the end serrated and razor-sharp. Lex throws her strength into keeping the alien far enough from her head while her right arm strains for the tail. She brings it down into the abomination’s head, screaming and crying and _cussing_ the thing to the depths of hell as she stabs.

The acid melts her glove; when the fox abomination stops moving, Lex throws it off and cries. She chucks her gloves to the side. Kasey bawls where she appears in the closet doorway, clutching the edge of the frame so tightly her brown skin appears sickly and pale at the knuckles. Lex can’t think of anything but getting the acid off her; she stumbles to her dresser and yells at her baby girl to look away.

She cuts the acid-strewn clothes off with the knife in her calf, only to come face-to-face with the deep, aggravating wounds. Lex hisses and grabs a nightshirt; she slits a chunk off to keep the burns free of fabric sticking to them. Her hands aren’t as badly burned but they _burn_. She shakes as she stares at her fingers, the skin swollen and rapidly becoming inflamed.

Kasey’s choked sob alerts her to where she is. Lex wants to panic—she’s far past that point—but she holds it together long enough to run to her daughter’s side and look her over for injury. She cups Kasey’s face. “Pumpkin—Kasey—Did it get you, Kasey?”

“No—No—You’re hurt—Mom—” Kasey cries at the sight of the burns. “We got to call nine-one-one! We got to! It’s an emergency!”

“They can’t help with this, pumpkin,” Lex wraps arms around her daughter and hugs her tightly. She ushers her out of the damaged bedroom, away from the alien. She sits her daughter in the living room, brings her a blanket, and heats milk over the stove in a saucepan while her brain sputters to think of what comes _next_.

She doesn’t know what to do. She’s never known what to do, not since the day of the expedition, and the day of Nikoli’s death, and the day she realized she would have to parent her daughter in a terrifying universe _alone_. Her eyes well up with tears and she struggles to breathe. She grabs her throat and clutches it, _begging_ it to cease. Her heart pounds in her head. She feels the old terror come back. There is nothing exhilarating about almost losing her daughter. She wants to break down and sob, but there’s no time, not when Kasey’s a mess all her own. Lex watches the milk heat up in the saucepan.

She is not okay, but she is _better_ by the time the milk heats up enough to pour into a mug. She ignores the cold coming in from the back door; it can wait until after Kasey. When her daughter has a mug of hot chocolate in her hands and a soft blanket cocooning her into the sofa, Lex returns to the back door. It has been corroded in multiple places, with only one hinge affected. It points to the abomination not being one of the large ones, not being one of the _shits_ capable of more sentient decisions and problem-solving.

She’s lucky it wasn't larger. She's lucky it wasn't the kind to burst from humans and take on their size. She's lucky it was only the size of a _fox_. She's lucky. 

Her chest tightens. Tears well up in her eyes. A slow, dread-filled thought slinks across her mind, filling her with terror and nausea.

 _Aliens don’t show up randomly._ Somewhere, there are eggs. Somewhere, the face fuckers crawl and leap. Somewhere in Alaska, there are more of these _things_ , and she does not have a seven-foot-eight wall of muscle to watch her back this time.


	2. October 2nd, 2020

**October 2 nd, 2020.** **One a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps.

Two days from now, the storm of a century will roll in and cover Eastcox Falls in a thick layer of snow.

Two days from now, she and Kasey will be trapped in the middle of the wilderness with a broken back door and extraterrestrial horrors stalking the grounds.

Two days from now. Two days from now. Two days. A time frame: a window. She works with windows; she _knows_ deadlines.

Lex sits in her kitchen, dressed in a thick sweatshirt and clean, warm pajamas underneath. She sits with her eyes glued to the broken door. Her shoddy repair job doesn’t negate the door needing replacement, but its enough to cover the hole until morning. Her black hair lays disheveled around the curves of her face as she listens to wind outside. Her mind is hyper-aware, far from sleepy, and fixated on _anything_ outside the house.

Kasey sleeps soundly on the sofa, hot chocolate long since finished and the mug in the dishwasher where it belongs.

 _Two days._ Lex repeats the thought.

* * *

**Two a.m.**

* * *

The watch beeps.

She retrieves and examines the alien weapon at her kitchen post. One end: melted beyond function and separated from the central unit. The other: intact, usable, but just as prone to melting as the other end did if more serpents show up. She reverts it to its compact form but keeps it close.

 _Two days until the storm. Black serpents. What do I do? Where can I go?_ Lex grips the compact weapon with both hands. It is the only thing she trusts to protect her daughter from the serpents. It is—was— _his_ , the otherworldly knight in shining armor. It is made to kill the things better than any human weapons can.

 _Two days. Two days._ She makes rounds around the house, popping by the P.C. to review security camera feeds. Her mind remains in a tizzy.

The Coronavirus pandemic has significantly shut down airlines and what is usually an easy flight from one part of the state to another is nigh impossible. Eastcox Falls is not busy enough outside the fishing season to warrant extra flights beyond postal deliveries. She knows her truck has four-wheel drive, but the chances of making it across the rough terrain of rural Alaska to Seward makes her hesitate. If she runs into a serpent in a car, if it burns the engine and somehow doesn’t cause an explosive chemical reaction, Kasey and herself will be stuck in the middle of the wilderness right as a terrifying snowstorm rolls in.

 _Fuck._ Her hand clenches around her alien weapon. Part of her wants to risk it anyways, but she knows better than to go off on impulse all the time. _I don’t know if there’s more of those things. I barely handled a fox one on my own, and I almost didn’t._

* * *

**Three a.m.**

* * *

The events of the previous day leaves Alexa’s mind foggy; she doesn’t remember to treat her burns until her watch beeps at the change of hour. She checks on Kasey before returning to her bedroom.

The dead alien remains a pile of obsidian fur and limbs on the ground, its own tail jutting out from its skull. The acid blood remains inside the beast; she decides to deal with it _later_ and steps over the corpse to her bathroom.

The burns still hurt, but the aloe vera gel she applies eases some of the pain. Her torso stings badly, to the point Lex takes an over-the-counter pain reliever in addition to the gel. She bandages her hand and torso with clean gauze and sterile wrappings. Exhaustion hits as she finishes, but Lex doesn’t rest. _Not yet. Not yet. Two days. Not yet. Need to think. I need to think._

She needs to stay put. Stay put and protect Kasey until the storm passes. Get to Seward after; fly to Anchorage and see if the UK will take a single mom and her kid. Even if they say no, it’s better to be turned away at customs than stuck in a state where _black serpents_ roam.

 _Okay. I got a plan._ Lex exhales sharply. _Fix the door in the morning… Ride out the storm… Get the fuck out of here. Okay. Okay. Okay._ She jumps at the sound of something outside. Her heart begins to race frantically in her chest. She grabs at her sweater and staggers to her feet, free hand gripping the alien weapon.

She doesn’t dare raise her voice. Lex crouches and walks forward in the uncomfortable position. She stops at the door and listens, trying to blot out the wind whipping through gaps and holes in the door and between the door and frame respectively. She grips the third groove along her spear’s center piece; the remaining end of the spear extends. Lex hears the footsteps again; they sound _heavy_ , crunching against snow underfoot. Her hands shake but her grip remains tight.

 _Chrk. Chrk. Chr._ Almost inaudible clicking hits her ears.

Lex lowers the weapon. Her lips part. For a moment, she doesn’t dare breathe. Then the past catches up with her: the rush of emotions, the terror, the adrenaline, the deaths, and guilt, and remorse, and every little part of screaming and night terrors and expletives rolled up into a big ball of _Fuck you, Alexa_ —

All of it, overshadowed by relief. Overshadowed by a sudden burst of hope. Overshadowed by a ping of warmth she doesn’t remember feeling since Nikoli was alive.

“Scar?” She dares say the name aloud, a mouse’s whisper in the face of a lion.

There is no lion; there is no Scar.

No more clicks come. No growls, no snarls, no assholes making dead aliens pop inner mouths out at her—Nothing but the cold winds of Alaska and the chills hinting at what is due in two days. Alexa sits on the ground and leans her head against the kitchen wall. Her eyes water; she clenches her teeth and wipes her eyes. Sleep comes soon after; the sentinel slips into an exhausted slumber with the wall as her pillow.

* * *

**Six a.m.**

* * *

Her watch alarm goes off. Alexa groans at it and rolls over. Her eyelids feel heavy. She sinks into the comforter and pulls it over her head, willing the warmth to join the rest of her body. Her mind begins to drift when she realizes: she’s in her bedroom.

Lex’s brown eyes shoot open and she snaps upright. The woman curses at the pain in her torso. She looks around the room. Panic fills her chest; she staggers out of her bed and bolts for the hallway. Kasey is still asleep when she runs into the living room. Lex sprints to the back door and exhales shakily at the sight. The door is as she left it. A small puddle stretches across the ground, as if something came and dragged snow in from the outside. She runs to the front door; it is untouched.

The woman stares at it a long time before returning to her bedroom. She finds no alien _body_ or its blood, but the hole in her wall where she pinned the corpse remains. Her lamp remains broken. On her night table is the alien tail, one end wrapped with enough chord to turn it into a usable sickle-like weapon. Several alien teeth sit next to the sickle; they are clean of blood but not polished. Her origami dove perches delicately next to the largest tooth. Alexa panics when she doesn’t see her spear. She runs amuck around her bedroom before searching the kitchen and living room head-to-toe.

“Mom… I’m tired…” Kasey rolls over in her cocoon of blankets on the sofa.

“Go back to sleep, pumpkin.” Alexa tells her, continuing the hunt.

There are signs her spear was once there in the hole in her bedroom wall, but she can’t find it. She doesn’t know where it would be. Her chest _aches_ at the thought of it being gone, but any pain turns to anger when she remembers the alien sickle in her bedroom. _Someone_ was here. _Someone_ came into her house. _Someone_ moved her to her bedroom and stole the alien _she_ killed. Alexa doesn’t know what to think by the time her anger simmers down. She goes into her bathroom and stares at the mirror. Her dark brown eyes widen at the sight of the _black serpent_ mark visible on her cheek.

Someone smeared her makeup. Alexa grits her teeth and smashes her _not-burnt_ fist on the counter. It hurts. The woman hisses through her teeth. _Who did this? Without making any noise…_

If it was a federal agent, surely, she and Kasey would have already been abducted and disappeared. Lex rakes her brain for answers. _Could a big alien have done it? Like the one we sent to the bottom of the fucking ocean._

She pauses. _That I—That I sent to the bottom of the ocean._

She tries not to think about her slip-up— _he’s dead, Alexa_ —while she showers and cleans herself of grime. Her chest tightens at the thoughts flitting through her head. Everything between impossibilities to outright fear encroaches on her by the time she washes up and steps out. Alexa doesn’t look in the mirror as she dresses in warm clean clothes. She lets the mirror defog while she takes her morning pills. When the mirror is clean enough to make out the scar on her cheek, Alexa pulls out her makeup and begins the morning rite of covering the _black serpent._

* * *

**Eight a.m.**

* * *

She doesn’t look forward to the conversation she needs to hold with her daughter, but after Kasey’s awake and finishes eating breakfast— _Lucky Charms,_ with a glass of milk on the side—Lex takes her to the living room and sits her down on the sofa. School doesn’t start until nine; the two have an hour to talk.

“How are you doing, pumpkin?” Alexa sits next to her daughter and looks over.

Kasey’s brown eyes dim. “I’m okay.”

“Did you know your ears wiggle when you’re telling porkies?” Lex leans down and kisses her daughter’s forehead. Kasey grumbles something under her breath and looks away. Alexa frowns draws back, “I know last night scared you, Kasey. It scared me, too.”

Her daughter slumps against the sofa, eyes on the ceiling. “What was that thing?”

“A… monster,” the woman tries to explain it. “A monster from far, far away. Something that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Why did a monster attack us? Did I do something bad?”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, no,” Alexa shakes her head. “You did nothing wrong, Kasey—”

“Why did it want to hurt us then?? Why did it want to hurt you?” Kasey’s eyes are wet when she looks at her mom.

Lex’s heart aches.

“It—It was doing what came naturally to it, pumpkin,” Alexa tucks a strand of stray, coiling hair behind Kasey’s ear. “You know how some things are _really_ gross in nature, Kasey? Animals want to eat other animals. That monster wanted to eat me.”

“And me,” Kasey interjects.

“And you, pumpkin.” Lex says.

“Are there more of those out there, momma?” Kasey shifts how she sits and folds her legs under her. She leans against her mom; blanket wrapped snug around her shoulders. Lex rubs her back as she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Lex answers honestly. “But if there is—I won’t let any of them eat you, pumpkin.”

Kasey seems happy with her answer.

* * *

**Nine a.m.**

* * *

When her daughter is in the middle of a remote class, Alexa tracks down her flip phone and calls Camille O’ Brien. The woman is her neighbor two miles out, a white senior whose granddaughter Wanda is Kasey’s best friend. She is a friendly sort, having helped Alexa with everything from school supplies to extra blankets since the day she packed up two-year-old Kasey and took off to Alaska. Alexa finds herself breathing in relief when Camille picks up after one ring, _“Good morning, Alexa!”_

“Top of the morning to you, Camille. How are you today?” Lex paces her kitchen as she talks. Her voice remains chipper, but she continually stares at her broken back door.

 _“Oh, I’ve only just woken up! I’m not like you younger folks anymore; all I do these days is sleep…”_ Camille rattles off a boring but humorous tale of her evening naps at inconvenient times. Alexa grunts occasionally to confirm she’s listening.

When she gets the chance, Lex butts in. “—I hate to be a bother, Camille, but something tried to get in the house last night—Is there any chance you could ask William to go into town and bring me a new door? I have the measurements—”

 _“My god, Alexa! You had something try and break into your home?”_ Camille focuses on what gets her the most information.

Lex panics, thinking of an excuse. “—Yes. A bear tried to get in. It didn’t, of course, but the door…” She trails off and leaves Camille to use her imagination.

_“But the door is…?”_

“Broken,” Lex repeats.

Camille gasps into the phone. _“Yes, yes! How silly of me to forget that; I will let William know right away. He has mail to pick up in town before the storm sets in; I’m sure he can stop by the depot for you. Give me the measurements and I’ll get them to him.”_

“Thank you, Camille. And—Please ask him to wear a mask,” Lex bites her lip. She reads off the measurements, lists her preferred material, and hangs up after.

 _Get through the storm. Ride it out. Drive to Seward when it’s clear. Take a flight to Anchorage. See if I can catch a transatlantic flight to London…_ Lex breathes out. She runs a hand through her hair. _Got a plan. Got a plan. Stick to the plan, Alexa. You can do this._

* * *

**One p.m.**

* * *

Alexa has only just finished lunch with Kasey when the doorbell rings. She shoos Kasey to the living room where _Cinderella_ plays on the P.C. Alexa fetches a mask from her broom closet and opens the front door to find a tall white man with dark hair and a mask lifting a hand in greeting.

William O’Brien is an alright fellow. Nice enough to help in a pinch, but constantly laughing at her suggestions. It comes as no surprise the man overlooks her requested door materials in favor of buying a steel door. It is ugly, clashes with everything, but Alexa sucks it up and welcomes him and the door in anyways, desperate to get the whole thing over with. She takes him to the kitchen and shows him the back door, making a display of opening it and revealing the other side and broken hinge.

“Ah see, ah see, you must’ve had quite a fright, Alexa,” the man tips his hat at her.

He wears a sports cap with the Pittsburgh Penguins logo over the front. Alexa forces a smile and nods. “It was… not my cup of tea. But—But we lived. Just need the door and…”

“And you say t’was a bear that dun it? See the color of it? Might be too dangerous to stay here if it’s something like a brown bear. Or—” William pauses as he steps back from the broken door. His blue eyes land on her brown. “A black bear. Not nasty like their cousins, but a bear’s a bear. Dang’rous. Granted—Ah didn’t think you’d’ve run into a bear at this time of year. Expect them to sleep. Hope it ain’t used to humans being ‘round these parts; a friendly bear’s recipe for disaster.”

“I have things under control here, William. But I appreciate the concern,” Alexa diverts her gaze, feeling uncomfortable. There’s something about the way the man moves and watches her that causes goosebumps. He feels _dodgy_ , like a dog about to swipe meat off the table when one looks away. She feels guilty for the thought after; the woman knows her paranoia is partially a symptom of PTSD. Five years of therapy helped, but she cannot rid herself of _all_ the past. Antarctica lingers in her mind’s eye whenever she shuts her eyes too long or lets her thoughts drift away.

 _Don’t let them reach the surface._ She hears a man’s voice in her head _weep_ with terror and pain. _Don’t let them reach the surface._

 _But they’re already here._ Alexa grits her teeth.

“You good, m’am?” William’s hands are stuffed into the pockets of his heavy red coat. The man’s mouth isn’t visible due to his mask; it’s hard to get a read on him by eyes alone.

“Been a long morning. Night. Evening—Evening and night,” the woman says, nodding once. “Thanks for bringing this over, William. Tell me how much it is and I’ll write you a check—”

“Oh, no need, m’am, y’know Camille, Wanda, and I are always happy to help. It’s what neighbors are for.” He sounds friendly. Nice. Calm.

Everything she suspects because her paranoia eats at all who aren’t Kasey or her relatives.

William clears his throat. “As a matter of fact—I’ve got tools in the back of my truck. Brought ‘em and a couple screws if you need this installed now.”

“That—” Alexa is about to turn him down when she stops.

_Chrk. Chrk. Chrk._

Methodic, enunciated clicks.

_Chrrrrrrrrrr._

A chirp.

The woman’s brown eyes grow wide. She runs out the open back door and frantically scans the surroundings. Snow falls and obfuscates most of the trees even in the daylight. Lex’s chest tightens, her heart _pounds_ , and she feels her mind race to process _what the fuck_ just happened. She holds a hand above her eyes to shield them from falling snow as she looks for— _I don’t know what I’m looking for. What am I doing? What am I doing?_

“M’am?” William calls from the doorway.

_But I heard it. Him. I heard him. I heard him and I—_

“Miss Woods?” A hand touches her shoulder and Lex spins on her heels. She draws a hidden knife from her waistband on impulse and jams it against the man’s throat with every intent to kill—When she realizes he’s _human_. She freezes.

“Oh my god—Oh my god—I’m so sorry—I—” Alexa repeats over and over. She staggers backward, drops the knife, and swallows. “I’m sorry, William—I—I don’t know what came over me—"

“Must’ve been quite a night,” William half-jokes, but his nervous tone increases the guilt she feels tenfold. “You sure you dun want someone out here with you and Miss Kasey? Or—Two of you could come on over to my ma’s house. Camille’d love to have you both. Wanda, too.”

Alexa bites her lip. “No. No, that’s not—It’s not necessary.”

The man seems disappointed. She decides to take him up on his offer to install the door, figuring it might ease the man’s worries. She doesn’t want him to come snooping back under the guise of concern. Or—With sincere concern, as she doubts her own perception of him. Alexa makes small talk as the man works. The old door pops off in minutes and the new door a half hour to install. Lex feels calm by the time she ushers William back to his truck and waves at him from her driveway. She feels better when the man and his truck are gone.

* * *

**Three p.m.**

* * *

“Can we see any planets from our house?” Kasey has a book open on her lap with illustrations of outer space.

“On a clear night, maybe?” Alexa sits upright on the sofa, watching her daughter’s face as Kasey squints at a depiction of Saturn.

“Why does Saturn get a ring, but Earth doesn’t?”

“Shouldn’t you be reading?” The woman raises a brow.

Kasey huffs and turns the page. “I just wanna _know_ …”

Lex thinks back to the astronomy class she took in college. “I think… Some astronomers—”

“Are those like astronauts?”

The woman pokes Kasey in the cheek. “Not quite. Astronauts go into space. Astronomers study what’s in space.”

“Oh. That’s boring.” Kasey turns another page. A giant illustration of Jupiter splays across two pages to help demonstrate the size difference between Jupiter and other planets. _“Woah…_ ”

“See that red spot?” Lex points and smiles at Kasey’s nod. “It’s called—The Great Red Spot. It’s a giant cluster of storms swirling around Jupiter right _now_.”

“It’s pretty. I want to make my hair the Great Red Spot.” Kasey says, nonchalant as she flips the page.

“Not until you’re older.” Lex kisses her daughter’s forehead.

Kasey huffs. “Fine… Can we see Jupiter from our house?”

“I mean,” Lex considers it. “Not while it’s cloudy, but—Maybe, pumpkin, maybe. When the sky is clear. You can’t see the Great Red Spot without a telescope; Jupiter would look like a glowing, round speck.”

“Space is cooler with pictures,” her daughter mumbles and returns to reading. She doesn’t ask Lex any other questions, prompting the woman to rise and take care of chores around the house.

Things need to be reinforced. Doors, windows, walls. She needs to reset alarms and review security camera footage, the latter once Kasey is in bed. Lex makes a point of checking the areas around the house where she stashes her weapons. She switches knives out for clean ones and gets the old ones in the dishwasher, running a load of dishes while she is in the kitchen. The woman backtracks to her bedroom and spends several minutes staring at her gun safe. It is still open on the floor, the two firearms and their respective ammunition waiting use. Lex’s brown eyes fall to the bottlecap necklace laying in the corner.

 _Two days. Ride out the storm. Seward. Anchorage. London. Safe._ Part of her questions if she’s wrong for not telling Camille or William about the _black serpents_. Part of her fears mentioning them at all, as if the aliens rise out of the ground at the sound of their name. Lex feels guilt grip her insides. She can’t trust Camille or William—She can’t. She _can’t._

She knows she should, but she can’t, because she’s Alexa Woods. Alexa _fucking_ Woods. Alexa _I survived Antarctica_ Woods.

She is _so_ afraid of what might come when night falls. She fears the darkness and the shadows, reminded too much of the pyramid’s interior. She fears seeing more of the wretched extraterrestrial abominations, with their blank white mouths which remind her of bleached bone. She fears not being enough, incapable of protecting her daughter against the alien monstrosities who linger on the peripheral of her mind. She fears, she fears, she _fears,_ and she knows it, and hates it, but she _must_ be strong enough to _withstand_ it. She must.

Kasey relies on her. She is all the girl has against the creatures who come from outer space, from the depths of ice, from the cracks and crevices of a terror worse than any Lovecraftian tale. She must— _will_ —protect her, at all costs.

 _It’s hard doing it alone._ Lex grits her teeth and fights back frustrated tears. _It’s so tiring. I’m so tired. I’m tired! I’m tired, pumpkin. I’m trying but I’m tired. I’m sorry._

She wipes her eyes. Nikoli would not give up, not on her and not on Kasey. He would encourage her likewise; the man was always capable of lifting her up when she fell, both metaphorically and physically. More than once Lex recalls stumbling in front of him and almost knocking the fellow over.

But he would smile and laugh her apology away, happy she was safe over all else. _Never angry. Full of beans, the bastard._

Nikoli is gone now. Taken in a boating accident. She knows it isn’t a boating accident, never was. Her husband was at the wrong place at the wrong time with a group of indigenous activists fighting against an oil company wanting to drill in the nation’s waters. The press labeled it an accident, mistake of judgement, everything which gave the world easy answers and never looked further. Lex detests the thought, the press, and the oil company all in one. She balls her hands into fists where she sits on her bedroom floor.

She isn’t one to believe in a God, not a God in an Abrahamic faith sense. Yet as she sits and stares at her lap, she can’t help but offer a prayer to any cosmic deity floating amongst the stars. It feels _futile,_ hopeless, but she does it anyway, because she is only a woman with a daughter to protect and though she will fight to her dying breath, Lex knows it may not be enough if she remains on her own. She needs help. She needs someone to watch her back.

Yet when she says _amen_ and lifts her head up, there is no one. Lex holds her face in her hands and begins to sob quietly. She feels alone.

* * *

**Six p.m.**

* * *

The power stays on throughout the evening. Dinner is spaghetti sauce over bowtie noodles; Kasey asks her questions about the stars and Lex pretends she doesn’t fear what lurks in the void of space.

* * *

**Nine p.m.**

* * *

She can’t sleep. Lex tosses and turns all night, desperate to rest after running on less than three hours the whole day. Exhaustion nips at her like a puppy refusing to heel. When the wind outside picks up again in tandem with her watch’s beeping, she sits up in her bed and grabs her phone from the bedside table. She climbs out of bed in a night shirt and baggy black sweatpants. Lex pulls on a sweatshirt before she leaves her room. She tiptoes to the kitchen, turns on a light, and examines the back door. The steel is cold to the touch, but it seems strong and sturdy against any would-be bear.

 _If only I was hunting bears._ She scoffs, a half-smile on her lips.

She heats up milk in a saucepan over the stove. Lex pours it into a mug and adds a hot chocolate mix along with marshmallows. She sits in a chair in her kitchen and drinks slowly, careful not to burn herself. The wind continues howling outside, more vigorous than before to achieve such volume. Lex grimaces at the implications. Soon—It will be one day. She prays any aliens intending to hunt her down and attack her do so before the storm. She hates the suspense, the waiting.

 _But waiting is what we did._ Her gaze dims. _Every ten minutes it moves. Every ten minutes. I’ve taken after you, Sebastien. I wear a watch now even when I’m not climbing the faces of mountains. You would be proud._

* * *

**Ten p.m.**

* * *

The security cameras disappoint her. The motion-activated ones capture single frame shots of snow falling from the sky, but no one present. Lex holds her head in her hands a moment before she resumes browsing the P.C. and looking over camera feeds. She feels tired, but not enough to sleep.

Part of her feels paranoid, that whatever came into her home before and moved her will come back the second she drifts off. There is a surprising lack of _fear_ given the circumstances. There is mostly _anxiety_ , compounded into a twisting, churning nausea not even hot chocolate fixes. She wants to grimace, but her heart pounds too much in her ears to think of anything else. The bizarre combination of nerves and a disgusting, twisted excitement leaves Alexa with the urge to scream and scream and _scream_. She doesn’t; Kasey sleeps soundly in her room.

* * *

**Eleven p.m.**

* * *

She falls asleep at the computer, unable to maintain consciousness in face of a deep, perforating exhaustion.

* * *

**Three a.m.**

* * *

Alexa jolts awake from a terrible nightmare. Cold sweats drips across her skin; her pupils dilate in terror before she recognizes her living room. The woman stares at her P.C.’s screensaver, an older Windows classic involving trails of pipes forming out of nothing on a black screen. Her heart slowly calms. She leans back and exhales silently. As she rises from the chair, she accidentally taps her P.C.’s mouse. The screensaver turns off and the screen lights up across the camera feeds. One of the motion detectors has been triggered.

Lex frowns and drags her cursor to it. She feels her hands shake when she realizes the camera feed shows her front porch and the stony, snow-laden path leading to it. There are footprints across the snow. She sees no _figure_ , but the footprints are there. Then—The motion detector goes off again. The second capture is a three-second clip of a minute ago: more footprints.

She hears something tap the door. Her blood runs cold and Lex staggers backward, her steps quiet against the floor of her home. She lurches to the kitchen and struggles to think. _Protect Kasey. Protect Kasey._

A strange, energetic crackle comes from just outside the front door. Lex grabs a metal baseball bat from behind her fridge. She steps forward and mentally prepares herself as she hears the lock of her front door _slowly_ turn. Alexa lifts the bat and crouches just around the corner of the hallway. She holds her breath as the front door _creaks_ open.

No footsteps, not until the intruder steps on a loose plank and it groans under _heavy_ weight. She sees their shadow: tall, hulking, not familiar. Except—Kind of familiar. It startles Alexa enough to freeze when the shadow stalks toward the corner where the hallway juts to the side. She rakes her brain for memories, but nothing rings louder in her head than when the intruder turns the corner. Alexa drops the bat and exhales sharply in _–shock, fear, surprise, relief, anger, bitterness_ —the bat drops to the floor with a _loud_ clang.

 _Chrrrrrrrrrrr._ Alexa knows the sound. She couldn’t forget it, one of the only ways her unlikely companion in Antarctica could communicate with her.

 _But it’s not possible. It’s not. He’s gone. He died. Dead. Queen. The Queen… They took him away. They…_ Her mind blanks in the torrent of emotions. Her brown eyes stare at the soft gleam of a silvery mask. On the forehead are two lines, identical to the now throbbing scars on her cheek.

She doesn’t know what to say, so all she does is stare when the crouching alien tilts his head to one side. For a moment—Alexa fears she is wrong. She fears this is not her old companion, partner, _can she call him a friend?_ She fears this is another hunter, another of his kind, come to wipe out all evidence of the aliens and their pyramid.

Then the alien straightens upright and holds out her spear. She hesitates to reach for it, too lost in her stupor of _everything_ to think clearly. Yet her hand stretches. She sees the Predator move in this time, too fast for anyone not expecting it to track. Lex opens her mouth to shriek, scream, _curse_ but when the alien activates the weapon, when the serrated blades of _her_ spear shoot out inches to the side of her head, when she hears the string of amused chirrups _at her goddamn expense_ , Lex falls silent. Her eyes well with tears. She wants to cry and cuss at the same time, in relief and anger and sorrow all at once.

She only knows one alien who would have such a wretched sense of humor. Only one alien who could scare her shitless and she might consider talking to them after. Only one alien. The one from the pyramid. The one she fought alongside with, escaped with, survived with—Until he didn’t.

The chittering laughter stops. The spear retracts. The hunter’s head remains tilted to one side. He soon chirps at her, impatient, Lex recognizes the tone. She takes _her_ spear back and turns it over in her hands. Her gaze lifts back to the mask.

She wipes her eyes. Some of her makeup smudges; she hears an irate string of clicks. A large, hot hand covered in scales pushes hers aside and rubs the makeup off.

 _Of course._ Lex growls in her head, but her anger dissipates when she remembers this is real.

“Hey, Scar.” She greets him quietly, unsure of what to feel at that moment. _Too many things._

The hunter ignores her and draws his hand back. He turns his hand over as if studying the concealer and foundation, slow and deliberate in the turns and angles of his masked face.

“Scar—” Lex repeats. The buffoon is still distracted; she feels irritation set in. It’s better than being a crying mess. She wipes her eyes again. “This is not how I envisioned things happening—None of this happening—Are you listening to me?” She lifts a hand to his shoulder and shoves him, gently, not expecting it to help but desperate to regain his attention. He’s a seven-foot-eight alien, a man of muscle capable of tearing her head off in a second. He doesn’t _need_ to listen to her. She doesn’t know if he considers the two allies or friends or _partners_.

She doesn’t know how he’s alive.

Lex realizes she doesn’t know much of anything outside her little safety bubble in Alaska.

Yet when she pushes his shoulder back, she hears the sudden snarl which comes from behind the mask. The clicks become incessant for a moment as she steps back and watches.

“Sorry—” Lex begins, but the woman is cut off when the alien lurches forward. Her eyes widen in fear; she _can’t_ fight him. She won’t. He’s the oddity in the mess of things, a bizarre savior and capable partner.

 _No—I’m the partner. He’s the capable one._ Lex corrects herself as she repeats the apologies, stepping back with each moment her old companion steps forward. Her back hits the end of the hall and she freezes in place. Panic overwhelms her; her eyes fall on the gauntlet on the hunter’s left hand. The blades have yet to be extended, but she remembers how painful they looked in the pyramid. Sixteen years doesn’t blot out the memories of bloody waterfalls and chunks of flesh flying as the hunter—and the two hunters who perished—kills.

She holds her breath, heart thumping wildly in her head, shrinking into the wall when the hunter comes closer and leans down to her head. He slowly tilts his head to one side and clicks softly. His hand without the smudge of makeup rises. He presses it to her cheek, to the markings. Lex wants to say she knows what it means. She doesn’t.

The woman holds still as the massive hunter traces the markings with a gentle touch of a claw. Claws she _knows_ can shred. Claws she’s seen claim and claim again. Claws which have ripped skulls from bodies, spinal columns attached. Alexa bites her lip.

She half-shrieks when the hunter picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder. Her first thought is Kasey; if she’s abducted, who will protect Kasey? The woman pounds her fists on the hunter’s back and shoulder. She hears her bedroom door open, but she has no time to overthink the situation before she lands unceremoniously on her rump in the middle of her bed. Lex lifts her arms to protect herself in case the hunter throws anything else.

She falls quiet when something warm and soft wraps around her. It’s one of her blankets from her closet. The alien wraps it around her on the bed. Then—he rises, crosses to her closet— _how does he know where to go??_ —and procures more. Time and time again, the Predator returns to her bedside with an increasing pile of blankets. His claws rip through some of them, but most hold as he positions them around and on her, effectively building a cocoon or nest of sorts around her.

Alexa Woods has seen many things, but this flabbergasts her. She stares in shock and confusion, surprisingly warm in her cocoon. When the hunter finishes, he crouches next to her bedside and clicks at her.

“…Thanks,” Lex whispers.

A… _happier_ chirp is her first reward. The second is Scar sitting on the ground, next to her bed, looking up at her.

She doesn’t know what it means or what he wants. She doesn’t know how he’s _alive_. The woman has no time to think as, a second later, the door to her bedroom pushes open. Kasey’s dark hair springs into view; the girl frowns and says softly, “Mom… I’m hearing noises again…”

Her daughter trails off. Words become gasps as Kasey’s eyes lock unto Scar’s relaxed form.

Lex’s face drains of color. This is not how she wants _anything_ to go.

But she is Alexa Woods, and she is a mom, so somehow, some way, she intends to find a way through the mess unfolding in her life. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asshole Scar pulling pranks and jokes is my favorite Scar.


	3. October 3rd, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rated M for the last bit.  
> I am very tired and am going to zzz now. 
> 
> (Will update with chapter TW's when I get off work tomorrow)

**October 3 rd, 2020. Four a.m. **

* * *

Alexa Woods leaps from her fortress of comforters to the floor. She staggers through the pain in her torso to Kasey’s side. She hears a brief _chrrrrrrr_ come from her old partner, all dissatisfactory at her actions. She doesn’t care; Lex grabs Kasey and pulls her daughter behind her. She looks back at Scar, half-expecting to see him already standing and ready to cut Kasey down with his jaw-dropping speed.

He hasn’t moved. He sits on the floor, head tilt to one side. Occasionally his mandibles clack loudly, but he remains silent as he observes the two.

“Mom…? Who is this?” Kasey yawns and frowns. She peeks out behind Alexa and peers at Scar.

“This is,” Lex clears her throat. She needs to stay calm; Scar can smell her fear. She bites her lip. “…He is… a bloke I met through work, pumpkin. Before you were born. He’s—” She hesitates to use the word _friendly_. “He’s alright. He _won’t_ hurt you.”

Lex knows she will lose, but she intends to fight Scar regardless if the Predator tries. To her relief, Scar chirps in an affirmative way. Kasey clutches Lex like a sloth does its parent at the strange sound. Alexa pats her daughter’s head. She looks back at Scar. He may wear a mask, but the woman has a gut feeling his gold eyes linger on _her_.

“This is my—My daughter,” Lex says softly. “Be kind to her, Scar. She’s a child—"

Scar trills like a small bird. The sound makes Kasey squeak in surprise. She tugs on the hem of Lex’s nightshirt. Her bright brown eyes meet Lex’s dark ones. “Why does he make funny noises?”

“He speaks differently than you or I.” Alexa nods.

“Is he in a costume?” Kasey’s grip on her loosens. “Can I touch his mask? It’s shiny. Why is he wearing armor? Is that part of the costume?” The questions gradually increase in speed.

Lex’s mind blanks. Her mouth hangs ajar, lost on what to say, as Kasey gradually calms and inches out of her hiding spot behind the woman. Scar tilts his head as the child steps closer and closer towards him. The seven-foot-eight wall of muscle tenses when Kasey steps into arms reach. The alien begins to click at the child. Lex snaps back to reality and lurches forward in time for Kasey to extend her hand.

“—I’m Kasey!” The nine-year-old puffs up in pride. She holds her hand to the air.

Scar hisses at Lex.

“—It’s—It’s how our kind greets one another in several countries—She means no offense by it,” Lex remains on edge as she flubs through her explanation. She steps between Kasey and Scar and gently pushes Kasey back. “Pumpkin, you can’t go around shoving hands into someone’s face like that. It’s rude—”

“But I wanna say hi! Introduce myself!” Her daughter frowns.

Lex is about to say _no, I’m the mom, drop it_ when she hears another chirp. The woman pauses and turns around just in time to witness Scar rising to his full height. Her head only comes to his chest. He is _huge_ and more muscular than she remembers him in Antarctica. Lex holds her breath as the towering Predator leans down to her eye level. One of his massive, clawed hands lifts; she holds still when he presses a claw against the _black serpent_ mark on her cheek. He clicks at her, then looks down at Kasey.

It isn’t until Scar taps the side of his mask Lex understands.

“Yes—Yes. She’s mine. My daughter,” Alexa repeats, half-wondering if the alien ignores ninety-percent of what she says. “Kasey.”

 _“Kasey.”_ The visors on Scar’s mask flash blue as he replays a recording of her voice.

“Me! That’s me!” Kasey squirms. “Hi there. Mister… Mister… Is your real name Scar? Do I call you Mister Scar?”

Scar shakes his head.

“What do I call you?” Her daughter insists on asking, refusing to let up on trying to worm her way around her mother to speak with the Predator.

Lex bites her lip. “She’s—Curious. A curious one, Scar. You don’t… I wouldn’t expect you to answer any questions—”

The amused set of clicks indicates he doesn’t intend to. Alexa exhales and looks down at Kasey. Kasey smiles up at her mom, “Is he going to stay here? I want to hear more weird sounds. I bet he can sound like a pine siskin!”

“Let’s save that for the morning,” Alexa ushers her daughter to the bedroom door. “You may not have school tomorrow, but you still need your sleep—”

“Aw…” Kasey trails off but complies.

Lex does not relax until her daughter is back in her room. She tucks Kasey into bed, kisses her forehead, and says goodnight. Lex has only just pulled the bedroom door shut when she turns around and finds herself—again—face-to-face with her old partner’s muscular chest. Scar chirps at her. Lex pauses. She is momentarily distracted by the fascinating netting-like material stretched taut across extraterrestrial muscles. He has _so_ many muscles, similar yet entirely alien in comparison to human anatomy. Even at a glance, she can see where his chest muscles are well-toned and sculpted. He has abs a bodybuilder would kill for, sturdy pecs, and his shoulders and biceps are almost Adonis-like in sheer perfection.

When Scar chirps at her a second time, Alexa snaps out of her stupor. She chides herself briefly for being distracted; this isn’t the first time she’s seen his muscles, only the first time its entranced her.

She bites her lip. “—For the record—I don’t expect you to answer any questions. Hers or mine.”

Lex intends to continue looking at the side, but a large hand with sharp, _sharp_ claws touches her cheek where the mark is. The woman stills. She feels Scar’s gaze peruse her as his fingers trace the symbol of the two scars, the _black serpent._ Some of her makeup remains intact. Scar draws his hand back when it smudges the concealer and foundation. He brings his hand to his face and emits a set of displeased clicks.

 _Thump. Thump._ Alexa is vaguely aware of her heart in her throat, pounding with something she can’t name.

 _Anticipation…?_ The woman cannot think clearly.

She opens her mouth to speak but Scar picks her up and throws her over one shoulder before she has the chance. Lex balks and growls at him; he trills in response and carries her back to her bedroom. Once more, Lex lands on her rump on her bed. The former, impenetrable wall of blankets is a mess strewn half-way across the room. Lex sits upright and exhales. Her brown eyes narrow on Scar when he begins to pick up blankets and throw them on her.

“Hey—Hey! Scar,” Alexa protests. She throws the blankets off only for Scar to chuck them on her again a moment later. For several seconds the two partake in the strange dance of flying comforters. Alexa grows increasingly annoyed; Scar begins chirping at her in irritation. It all comes to a halt when he decides to gather all the blankets and join her on her bed. Even with the increase support of the king frame, the legs on the frame snap and buckle under the weight.

The bed drops to the ground, a loud but not ear-splitting crash ringing out. Alexa curses and shoves Scar’s shoulder. The alien growls. He sounds frustrated but none of it makes sense, not to her. Lex grits her teeth when Scar abruptly picks her up and holds her against his chest, arms caging her own arms to her side as if he is a wrestler about to suplex an opponent for the crowd. Lex squirms but it only makes Scar’s arms tighten around her. Strangely—Though he clearly has strength beyond her human capabilities and can crush her in a second—He doesn’t. He holds her with precision, just tight enough to keep her restrained but not to impede her breathing or harm her.

Alexa’s brown eyes narrow. She glares up at his mask. “Fine. You win. Put me down, Scar.”

He drops her on the bed and puffs his chest in victory. A proud rumble reverberates through his chest. He looks at her immediately after; Lex raises both brows and turns her head away. She sighs once the alien begins building up the fortress of comforters once more, catered to her current place on her bed. Lex relents in allowing Scar to return her cocoon to its former glory, but where Scar formerly sat next to her bed, he now climbs into the nest of blankets and sits next to her.

Lex stares. _What are you doing?_

She doesn’t ask the question. She doesn’t want another round of blanket pick-‘em-up. If Scar insists on burying her in blankets like he’s building a fort, so be it. She leans against the back wall of blankets and watches him settle. He sits cross-legged, surprisingly flexible and occupying most of her blanket cocoon’s space. Lex feels his gaze on her; she does not shy from looking at his mask this time. Her eyelids suddenly feel heavy. It’s four in the morning and her watch goes off in two hours.

“How am I supposed to lay down with you here?” The woman utters under her breath. She watches Scar tilt his head to one side. A moment later the extraterrestrial shifts several inches to the side. Lex’s brown eyes narrow. “Scar. I need to lay _down._ Not sit.”

He says nothing but moves another few inches. There’s enough space to stretch out _next_ to him in the cocoon of blankets, but it will shove her feet against his head and Lex worries it may offend him. He baffles her like that: as much as she knows how to interpret much of his body language, there is so much she _doesn’t_ know. She didn’t think she would get the chance to learn after watching him die in Antarctica, right before his fellow Predators arrived to whisk the body away.

Her brown eyes dim. _How are you alive, Scar? How?_

She feels too tired to think about it. Lex decides not to risk a cheesed off alien and opts not to shove her feet at his side. The woman sits and rearranges herself so her head is at the same end of the bed as his torso. Lex lays down in the fortress of blankets and turns her back to her strange companion. She shuts her eyes.

“I’m sleeping. Night, Scar.” She mumbles.

Lex hears a strange, soft purring near her head before she passes out.

* * *

**Six a.m.**

* * *

The woman doesn’t dream. She has no nightmares. She wakes up to the sound of her watch’s alarm beeping. Even significantly sleep deprived, she feels more refreshed than she has in days: clear of mind, a complete lack of brain fog, and surprisingly warm despite knowing it is freezing outside. When her brown eyes flicker open, Lex sees why: the cocoon of blankets remains intact, but she is nestled under a layer of warm pelts. Warm, soft furs, the likes she does not remember seeing anytime during the last thirty-nine years of life.

Alien hides. Lex’s eyes shoot open and she sits upright. She is alone in her room. Once more, Scar is gone—But the signs of his work linger. Her fortress of comforters stands impressively, with only a minor dent in the side. _But the pelts…_

Lex pushes them off and away from her. She exhales slowly and shudders. She rises and creeps to her bedroom door. It is open; Scar must have left. She steps into the hallway and fins no sign of him. She double-checks Kasey’s room: no alien, only one sleeping child.

 _Again._ Her chest tightens. _He’s gone again._

Sighing, Lex strides to her bathroom to begin her morning ritual. The morning pills are first, taken with a glass of water.

She wipes away yesterday’s make-up and applies new primer over her cheek. The foundation is next, then the concealer. Lex has only just begun smearing concealer over the _black serpent_ on her cheek when she hears a low hiss come from _behind_ her. She spins on her heels, only to find Scar suddenly _there,_ his massive frame appearing out of nowhere with only the sound of crackling electricity to announce it.

 _His cloaking technology._ Lex reminds herself. She tries not to take it personally when Scar growls at her. Though his face remains obscured behind his mask, she imagines his four clacking mandibles and distinct tusks flaring. He probably looks fiercer now than he did sixteen years ago.

Lex swallows as Scar steps forward. She tries to step back, only to hit her bathroom counter. Scar’s mask angles in the direction of her right hand, where she holds the tube of concealer. He reaches for it; Lex’s eyes widen.

She scoots unto the bathroom counter and inches back, refusing to hand it over. Scar begins to hiss again as he steps forward between her legs, leaning forward where Lex leans back until her back hits the mirror. She shoves the tube behind her and narrows her eyes at Scar’s mask. His hissing continues; the hunter sounds irate. Scar’s hands slam on the counter at either side of her. Alexa grits her teeth; of all the things the damn alien wants, she is _not_ willing to relinquish her makeup. It is part of her means of _control,_ of coping with the terror of the past, with all the _wretched_ things she survived.

“No.” She growls when Scar begins to reach around her. The Predator halts. Alexa inhales deeply and repeats herself, “No—You can’t have it.”

Scar’s head tilts to one side. He trills at her, reeking of irritation but no longer attempting to wrestle her concealer out of her hands.

Lex sighs and leans her head back against the mirror. She feels surprisingly warm, mainly due to the proximity of the hunter’s warm body. With the cold outside, it feels nice. She admits that much. It doesn’t occur to her neither have moved until she hears soft purring. The air grows thick as she stills and looks warily back at the Predator. Scar has not moved closer, nor has he moved away; his arms remain in place at the side of her thighs. The edge of his gauntlets only just brushes against her legs. Her mind temporarily blanks with the sudden awareness of how his body presses against and over her.

He’s purring. _He_ is the one making the purring sound, gentle and faint to her ears.

Alexa has no idea how or why or _what_ any of it means. She slowly brings her hands out from behind her, concealer still in one hand. She watches Scar slowly— _carefully_ —lift one of his massive hands. He brushes the back of two fingers against her cheek. She feels herself flush at the gesture, only for the heat to simmer down and dissipate when she realizes what he’s doing.

Lex pushes his hand away. “Now I have to do it again!”

Scar hisses softly at her. He wipes the makeup off his hands unto the thick, armored kilt covering his crotch. The furs of the kilt poke at her; it isn’t soft like the ones on her bed. The ones _he_ must have put on her bed.

Lex feels anger bubble up. She puts a hand to his chest, intending to shove him backward, only to stare furiously at his mask instead. The mesh of his strange, fishnet-like matrix allows her to feel just how sturdy his muscles are. She can feel his heartbeats under her touch. If she wasn’t _pissed_ , she might have found herself lulled by the distinct, multiple thumps.

“Give me a good reason why you did that,” Lex snarls at him. She doesn’t know what she will do if he doesn’t comply, but she hopes she sounds intimidating.

Scar takes her hand off her chest. Lex is only briefly surprised by the fact she forgot to move it. She stares daggers at the hunter while his impossible large hand pulls hers to his mask. He leans down enough to set her hand on the symbol inscribed into his mask, the same one she saw him mark himself and herself with sixteen years ago. Scar trills softly at her. The notes remind her vaguely of a songbird, eerily melodic despite the dissonant and aggressive nature of his usual clicks.

When she says nothing, he repeats the nose, slightly irate the second time around.

Lex draws her hand back. Her eyes dim. She understands his offense.

“—It’s easier this way, Scar.” The woman shuts her eyes. “I understand for—Your—Others of your kind—Some of you look at this as a… A rite of passage. A mark of honor.”

The incessant clicks tell her she is partially right. She imagines, in his tongue, he has already broken down just how badly she misunderstands or misinterprets the meaning of the marking. Maybe he threw an underhanded insult in. He hasn’t let up on being agitated with everything she does since showing up out of the blue the previous day.

Lex feels tired. Too tired to explain, too tired to survive, too tired to raise a kid, all of which she intends to do anyways.

“I don’t know where you’ve been the past sixteen years, Scar. Maybe you found what you were looking for in the pyramid. But I—I never did. I never got out,” when she hears the set of clicks, Lex grits her teeth and clenches her eyes shut. “Why do I bother? You don’t care—"

The ensuing growl takes her aback. Alexa opens her eyes and stares off to the side.

“Move.” She says.

Scar steps back and straightens upright. Lex hops off the counter. She doesn’t look at him as she rifles through drawers searching for makeup remover and a hand towel. She quickly wipes the rest of the makeup off and starts from the beginning. Her hand shakes. She begins applying the primer over the scars. From the side, she hears Scar click in disapproval, but he does not stop her. Lex half-expects him to leave when she begins smearing foundation on. He doesn’t.

He stays even when she opens her tube of concealer. Lex pauses, concealer in one hand and the tube’s cap in the other.

 _“You. Never got out,”_ Lex shudders when she hears her own voice played back to her through Scar’s mask. The Predator tilts his head to one side, one last word following. _“Why.”_

Alexa Woods feels tired. She sets the cap for the tube of concealer on the counter. She squirts a small pile of the liquid unto her finger before she pauses. Fear crawls up her spine at the memories of the Antartica expedition.

“I failed them, Scar. Those in the pyramid—The other humans—My kind—I was there to guide them! They counted on me to keep them safe—I failed each of them and watched some of them die. I killed one myself. _‘Don’t let them reach the surface,’_ ” Lex slams her palm unto the bathroom corner. Her eyes water. “I killed one myself. He was a nice man, Scar. His name—Sebastien. Do you remember when I shot him? Do you remember his pleas? I don’t know if others of your species care—But I—I can’t forget it. It’s been sixteen fucking years and I can’t forget that nightmare. I close my eyes and that’s where I am. In a pyramid, alone, surrounded by bodies and _black serpents_. _Don’t let them reach the surface,_ he said! It doesn’t matter—They’re here, Scar, they’re out there somewhere—” Lex begins to ramble and rant, rave and divulge, voicing every thought haunting her since the night she watched the spacecraft depart with her partner’s dead body.

She failed the expedition. She was supposed to keep them _all_ safe. If not all—She would have gladly given herself up for _one_ of them to live.

Lex doesn’t realize she smears concealer over the counter surface until she looks down and sighs. The thirty-nine-year-old woman shakes her head. She sets the tube of concealer on the counter and wets another hand towel with makeup remover. She begins wiping the counter clean when she sees Scar reach for her tube of concealer in her peripheral. Lex growls at him and snaps up, but she is unable to snatch it back in time before the Predator plucks it from the counter.

“Give that back,” Lex seethes.

Scar clicks at her. It sounds strange, not something he’s used with her before. When she stares at him, a mix of anger and grief, the hunter takes her concealer and squeezes a massive glob out unto his hand. Lex falls silent as the massive alien reaches for her face. She doesn’t register his fingers caressing her cheek until the hunter’s mask projects another clip of her voice.

 _“Sorry—Sorry—”_ The clip repeats for several seconds before ceasing, just as Scar draws his hand back.

Lex glances at the mirror. Her eyes widen; she can see exactly where he traced the skin, in a nigh-perfect replica of the _black_ _serpent_ marking, all visible against the color of the foundation beneath.

“That’s,” she holds her tongue. Her brown eyes widen. “Is this an apology?”

The Predator clicks at her. Scar extends the concealer. Lex takes it and caps the tube silently.

“Thank you.” The woman looks away.

 _“Mark of honor.”_ Her voice repeats in a new clip. Lex returns her gaze to Scar, observing him in time to witness him tapping one concealer-riddled claw to his mask. _“—honor.”_

* * *

**Ten a.m.**

* * *

Alexa Woods does not like taking naps.

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep in the middle of undoing the impenetrable fortress of blankets and refolding everything, but she does. By the time she awakens, she not only hears her watch beep endlessly at her, but she also sees the fruits of her labor—wasted.

Scar has rebuilt the wall of blankets, put her inside it, and once more covered her with alien pelts. Lex groans as she sits up. She climbs out of bed and staggers to the bathroom with a big yawn escaping her lips. To Scar’s credit, he did not wipe off her makeup, even if the concealer looks funny where it extends past the foundation underneath.

 _One day._ The storm will be here tomorrow. Lex grits her teeth as she pulls on leggings, heavy pants over her leggings, and snow pants on top of it all. She wears an undershirt beneath a heavier tee and a sweater on top. Her socks are thick and made of cotton; she dons heavy rubber boots for the day ahead. She needs to reinforce _everything_. Triple-check cameras, alarms, the works. It gives her a headache thinking about the amount of time she needs to spend outside; she feels wary venturing in Alaska’s wilds as is, much less when _black serpents_ are around.

 _I should ask Scar about them._ The woman frowns. She figures the hunter already knows. In fact—It is probably the reason he is here.

“Not for me,” she utters under her breath. Lex pauses at her own words. A plume of heat spikes in her chest. She feels it worm its way to her face, filling in her cheeks with a rosy hue. _I don’t… I don’t… I didn’t…_

She decides not to peruse that train of thought, opting to seek out her daughter instead. What Lex finds is almost as ridiculous as the events of the morning.

* * *

**Eleven a.m.**

* * *

From where Lex stands, she spots Scar crouched next to her daughter, the latter attempting to stack Fruit Loops as high as possible. Lex stares, gobsmacked, as Scar hands Kasey the next Fruit Loop and she puts it on the top. For a moment, the stack teeters and sways from one side to the next, but it rights itself. Kasey grins and dances where she sits on the floor of the living room. Scar tilts his head to one side, saying nothing.

“I need more! We have to make it as big as possible,” Kasey’s black locs bounce with joy at her excited nodding. “Really, super tall!”

Scar hands her a Fruit Loop. Kasey bites her tongue as she slowly, _carefully_ positions it on the tower of cereal.

The tower sways too much to the right, but before it can fall, Scar’s hand has already moved to catch it. The Predator clicks at Kasey, irritated.

“Oh, you’re right, yellow must be the wrong color,” Kasey takes the Fruit Loop off. Scar’s free hand deposits a green Fruit Loop in her waiting hand. With as much precision as before, Lex watches in awe as Kasey places the cereal down on top of the tower. She scoots backward and nods at Scar to remove his hand.

The tower stands. Kasey resumes dancing where she sits. Scar clicks with laughter.

It baffles Lex. She cannot put to words how stunned she is to see an aggressive, murderous hunter be so gentle with cereal. She cannot summarize her disbelief at how okay she is with the extraterrestrial helping her daughter build a tower. Just this morning, she feared he might attack her, but the Predator displays no more signs of hostility now than he did when he was building a blanket fort on her bed.

 _I need to fix the frame eventually._ Lex rubs her forehead.

Kasey looks up and smiles, brown eyes alight with joy. “Hi mom!”

“Morning, pumpkin. Sorry, I slept in,” Lex strides forward and sits next to her daughter. “What’s this?”

“Your friend’s helping me build the world’s tallest cereal tower,” Kasey says it all matter-of-factly. She looks deadly serious as she eyes her impressive tower of approximately… Lex loses track after thirty. Kasey inhales deeply. “I think we need a blue next.”

Scar hands her a yellow.

Kasey frowns and throws it at his mask. “I said blue!”

“Pumpkin, ask nicely,” Lex frowns.

A flicker of paranoia returns to her, but it settles when she hears Scar laugh in his strange, clicking way. He shoves a yellow loop at Kasey again, then extends a blue to Lex. Lex stares. Kasey begins to protest, but quiets once Lex takes the blue and gives it to her daughter.

For a time, the three are like that: Kasey on build duty, Scar on acquiring new Fruit Loops of intentionally wrong colors, and Lex on take-the-right-color-and-give-it-to-Kasey duty. More than once Lex finds Scar does not let go of the cereal pieces. More than once her hands touch his in acquiring the cereal, only for the side of his finger or his clawtip to brush her hand. It begins to happen more and more often, to the point the duration of contact makes her pulse quicken in her ears. Lex feels her head become light and dizzy.

She eventually clears her throat and stands. “Scar—If—When you’re done, I had questions for you.”

“He doesn’t say a lot of words, mom,” Kasey points out.

“We have our own way of talking to each other,” Lex is already heading for the kitchen, in dire need of caffeine. She finishes a cup of coffee and refills the mug by the time her old partner joins her in the kitchen. Scar tilts his head and angles his mask toward her while Lex slowly sips her drink. She sighs after and puts it on the kitchen table. “I need to know if you’re going to hunt the others.

The hunter growls.

Lex glares. “I know you moved the body from my room. I don’t care _what_ you did with it—But I—I have a _daughter_. If you aren’t here to hunt the _serpents_ —I need to know.”

Her watch beeps.

* * *

**Twelve p.m.**

* * *

She finishes her second cup of coffee while the hunter stands idle. Lex puts the cup in the dishwasher and sighs.

“—I don’t think you were here when the fox one attacked,” Lex begins loading the rest of the sink’s contents into the dishwasher, talking over her shoulder quietly as she does. “—That thing almost killed us. If I didn’t have the spear—We would have… I wouldn’t be able to protect my daughter. Not from that kind of monstrosity.”

She struggles to tell what he thinks. The mask hides too much, and even without it, even if his searing gold eyes fell on her brown ones once again, Lex doesn’t know if she _can_ understand the depths of differences between a human and a Predator. They are two different species.

 _What am I expecting?_ She grits her teeth and exhales sharply. She hears clicks come behind her. Lex growls without looking back; “—I am not _you_ , Scar. I am not—I can’t just _kill_ those things—”

She catches herself before her voice grows too loud. Kasey is in the next room; Lex doesn’t want to startle her.

“—I’m only human. I know that makes me—It means I’m nothing more than a place for those creatures to plant eggs into, or a target for others to Hunt. I’m Alexa Woods, the _human,_ ” Lex puts dish soap into the dishwasher and starts a load. “I can’t hunt a _horde_ of those things by _myself_ ; I will acknowledge that. If you aren’t going to hunt them—I can’t stay here. _Kasey_ can’t stay here. I don’t care what happens to me—But I can’t—I _won’t_ let anything happen to her—"

She straightens upright and turns around. She isn’t surprised to find him standing directly behind her, but she still flinches. To her surprise, no clacking laughter comes from the hunter.

Scar chirps at her. He lifts a fist and thumps it against his chest. The alien lifts his hand to the mark inscribed upon his mask, the one _identical_ to hers. It is not something she’s seen before, not this set of noises and actions. When Lex doesn’t react, Scar chirps impatiently.

Lex tenses when the Predator extends the blades of his gauntlet. Scar trills and holds the hand with the gauntlet in front of her face, the blades angled away from her. The alien’s other hand lifts and brushes against the mark on his mask a second time. Scar chirps again.

The meaning hits her like a ton of bricks. Lex’s eyes widen. Before she can say anything, a knock comes from the front door. In the next room over, Alexa hears her daughter yelp and the sound of something falling.

Kasey wails, “—My tower! _Nooo!”_

The knocking comes again. Scar looks in the direction of the front door. When he begins to growl, Lex steps between him and the door. She lifts a hand and motions for silence. Lex narrows her eyes and whispers, “—Stay out of sight.”

The woman walks from the kitchen, past the living room, and to the short front hallway.

She peeks through the peephole and frowns. “Kasey! Did you invite Wanda over to play without asking for permission?”

“Wanda? Is Wanda here?!” her daughter yells from the living room. Alexa wants to hold her head in her hands when Kasey’s spunky self comes sprinting from the other room to the front door, almost crashing into Lex in sheer glee. “Wanda! Is Wanda here?? I want to play with Wanda!”

“Well,” Lex bites her lip. She’s about to say _no_ when a voice shouts through the door.

“Kasey! Kasey! Kasey! Kasey!” Wanda sounds _eccentric_ , one of the few times Lex remembers hearing the shy girl talk.

Lex retrieves two masks from the broom closet for herself and Kasey. She squints at Kasey until her daughter begrudgingly puts it on. Lex opens the door to find not one but two O’Briens staring at her and Kasey. The taller of the two, William, has a hefty winter coat on along with snowpants and who knows how many layers beneath. The man tips his Pittsburgh Penguins cap at her while she forces a grin only to remember she wears a mask. Lex cringes internally in time for the littler of the two O’Briens to begin bouncing on her feet in excitement.

Wanda chirps. “Kasey!!! Kasey!! Kasey!”

Wanda O’Brien is nothing but a ball of soft-spoken glee and endless joy. The girl is ten, born in January the same year as Kasey, with a preference for polka dot apparel and big, fluffy gloves no matter the time of year. Wanda is several inches taller than Kasey, but very much shorter than either of the two’s parents. Her head is full of thick ginger waves jutting out from under a knit white beanie with buttons covering the surface. She and her dad both wear white masks, a type Lex vaguely recognizes as _K95._ Lex briefly wonders how William got ahold of them; in recent weeks mask supplies have been restricted to healthcare workers globally. 

“Wanda!! Wanda!!” Kasey shouts and waves, interrupting Lex’s train of thought.

The words light up Wanda’s large hazel eyes, a heartwarming spectacle behind the girl’s thin-framed spectacles if Kasey’s continued yells of greeting weren’t heartwarming enough.

“Not so loud, pumpkin,” Lex chides softly. Her brown eyes dim; she glances at William. “—I wasn’t expecting a house visit, William. You know I’m nervous with unexpected visitors.”

“Sorry, Alexa, ah didn’t mean no harm by it,” William nods once, as if the statement erases the very real nerves returning to twist Alexa’s stomach. The man looks to the side, cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Ah tried callin’ your phone, but you didn’t answer. Left a voicemail, but ah didn’t hear back from you, an’ after rememb’ring what gone on the other day with the bear—Ah got a bit worried—”

Lex sighs. She doesn’t know if the man has a thick skull riddled with well-intended concern, or if he is purposely trying to get under her skin and push her boundaries. For a moment, she wonders if it is her PTSD talking: if her paranoia and fears cloud her perception of him and Wanda and even the nosy, old Camille. It isn’t the first time she’s made assumptions that turn out false. Lex chides herself internally. She does not want to live her life always fearing the world outside her bubble.

She glances to the side, where Kasey and Wanda respect the need to socially distance while the two wave and make jokes at one another, with most of the latter coming from her daughter. The two are peas in a pod, utterly inseparable until time to go home, and Lex _knows_ how badly her daughter misses her friend.

“You can stay for a bit, I know it’s cold out there—” Lex only just begins speaking when Kasey squeals, lunges for Wanda, and the two envelop the other in a great bear hug.

Wanda begins giggling softly and follows when Kasey takes her hand and pulls her into the living room, “We can build something with Fruit Loops!”

“Don’t make a mess, Kasey—Hey, girls, you two need to keep your masks on around each other. Stay six feet—Damnit,” Lex sighs as the two kids duck out of sight rounding the corner into the living room. She hears Kasey dump Fruit Loops on the floor. The woman rubs her forehead, almost forgetting William is there until the latter clears his throat. Lex hesitates, but she steps to the side. “Come on in, William. Don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t—Expecting company.”

“No, no, I know this’s short notice, Miss Alexa, don’t worry nothing over it.” The man nods and wipes his boots off before entering her home. Lex scans her front porch and the surrounding woods before she shuts the door.

* * *

**Two p.m.**

* * *

The O’Briens are not unpleasant company. Wanda is perfectly polite, if a bit quiet around her father and Alexa, whereas William continues his friendly spiels into the afternoon.

Much to Lex’s relief, the man does not ask many questions outside small talk. He inquires about the state of her back door once before he drops the topic. His eyes constantly seek out hers, as if the man tries very hard to _keep_ her line of sight while he chats about growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, shares his plans for dealing with the incoming storm, and reminds her no less than five times she and Kasey are welcome to stay with Camille, himself, and Wanda if the storm gets to be too much for her to handle.

“I’ll be fine, William. _Thank you,”_ Lex reassures him, annoyed when the eleventh reminder comes up. She feels bad when he begins to apologize.

“—Ah just know—It’s real dang’rous when storms come in, Alexa,” William grunts where he sits across her at the kitchen table. “My ma know best ‘bout blizzards. Lived thru a real number of them. In this neck of the woods—Ah think its best folks like you an’ ah stick togeth’r.”

Lex snaps her head up. She stares at the man in his Pittsburgh Penguins cap. “What do you mean by that, William?”

“It’s just,” William shrugs amicably. “Ah know this might be getting’ ahead of myself—But these lands got a few stories goin’ back to when my ma’s grandma was a wee one. Stories you wouldn’t believe.”

“Stories I wouldn’t believe.” Alexa repeats.

“People gone missin’ in the worst of these storms,” William pushes his seat back and stands. “It’s easy to lose your head when the snow hits. Easy to panic. Makin’ mistakes with mother nature ain’t good in the long run. Ah know too well—It’s how we lost Wanda’s ma, my wife, Jeanne.”

“Oh.” Her brown eyes widen. She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she says nothing, instead rising and shoving her chair from the table until she can worm her way out. She and William walk to the front hall, the two in apparent, unspoken agreement it is time for the O’Briens to go. Lex peeks into the living room and calls for Kasey and Wanda, “Wanda! Your father’s heading out.”

“Aw…” Wanda mumbles. She puts a necklace of fruit loops around her neck. Kasey wears an identical necklace. Wanda shuffles back to William, quiet once more.

“Bye Wanda!!” Kasey jumps up and walks over to hug Wanda goodbye. Wanda hesitates before hugging her back.

By the time the two O’Briens are gone, Lex is in a confused daze and Kasey has returned to making a mess of cereal on the floor.

Lex’s watch beeps. She glances at it and furrows her brows. “…Easy to lose your head when the snow hits. What did you mean by that, William...?”

* * *

**Five p.m.**

* * *

By the time she begins dinner, Lex doesn’t know where Scar is. She winds up cooking venison in the oven, filling her home with grandiose mixtures of spices and herbs that lean toward the spicy side. Kasey is eager as a bee with a flower when she smells the food Lex pulls out of the oven. Lex pours a glaze over the meat while asking Kasey to set the table.

“I’m so, so, _so_ happy I got to see Wanda!” Kasey excitedly divulges the different jewelry pieces the two made out of Fruit Loops: necklaces, circlets, bracelets and rings, all of which were done using long strings her friend provided.

Lex begins cutting the venison and placing it hers and Kasey’s place. “Wanda brought string?”

“No, no! Not _my_ friend— _Your_ friend!” Kasey chirps.

The woman’s face pales. She bites her lip and slowly retrieves her share of venison. Though it smells _amazing_ , she doesn’t have an appetite anymore. Lex fears just what Kasey and Wanda may have seen, or what Scar showed them.

 _Fuck._ She curses internally. “Kasey—Pumpkin—Did you see my friend after the O’Briens arrived?”

“Not really. I mean, I heard his big, heavy footsteps! Like… Thump, thump, rumble. He rumbles a lot, I think. And he makes these weird sounds and I don’t understand him—But that’s okay, ‘cause he’s _your_ friend,” Kasey rattles off the words with no hesitation, missing the severity of the situation in her delight at how the day transpired. “I think he could be my friend, too. He helped me build a tower this morning! And he kept me company when I found you napping!”

Lex peers at her daughter. Her gaze dims. “Napping—Right. I forgot; I meant to apologize for sleeping through our breakfast together, pumpkin. I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re always telling me to go to bed,” Kasey nods twice. “It goes the same for you!”

“That’s not entirely true, pumpkin. Moms have their own rules,” Lex says, biting into a piece of venison. She immediately recognizes her fault in cooking it for so long: the meat is a tad dry. Not to the point of ruining the meal, but it hinders her enjoyment of it, although Kasey continues chewing away and devouring her piece.

“I wish I didn’t have any rules. I would stay up all night every night, forever.” Kasey begins a new spiel until Lex puts another piece of venison on her daughter’s plate. Her daughter lights up and grins with glee. _“Yum!”_

* * *

**Six p.m.**

* * *

Kasey and her sit on the sofa. Lex fumbles with her P.C. long enough to pull up another Studio Ghibli film. This one is one of her personal favorites: a tale about a girl who becomes embroiled in a terrible conflict between her kingdom of wind and a kingdom which seeks the use of a weapon used in an apocalyptic war a thousand years past. Though it has an intense plot littered with politics, Lex finds the attitude expressed by _Nausicaa,_ princess of the Valley of the Wind, something to look up to.

 _There’s no evil. There’s only fear._ Alexa breathes in and calms. She enjoys the anti-war theme and imagery, the spunk and endless commitment to valuing life found in Nausicaa’s character, and the gorgeous animation which captivates her years after she remembers seeing it for the first time.

Kasey has a lot of questions for her after the film ends. By then, Lex is ready to retire for bed, but she takes time to answer each of her daughter’s inquiries—Even if the answer is a bashful, _I don’t know, pumpkin._

* * *

**Eight p.m.**

* * *

After Kasey settles in bed, teeth begrudgingly brushed and wearing her favorite husky-themed pajamas, Lex wishes her daughter a good night and shuts the bedroom door behind her. She yawns, stretches, and begins checking her alarms, hiding places for weapons, and the camera feeds. Seeing so much snow outside brings a shudder of unease to the woman. Lex bites her lip and leans back in the chair near her P.C. She rubs the back of her head and sighs. _One day, then. One day. Tomorrow. We’ll be snowed in, and… and…_

She hopes she understands what Scar meant earlier. Lex can’t be sure; she is, after all, only human. Her old partner is a hunter from another world, one who literally comes from the stars. She doesn’t know much of him beyond what time the two spent in the pyramid together.

 _Antarctica felt like a lifetime, but… It wasn’t. Was it?_ Lex’s shoulders slump. _How does his species judge time? How long do they live? How is he even alive? How…_

She hates not knowing. She wants the control of information. She wants to stay levelheaded, clear of mind and capable of her own decisions. Lex sighs, “You need to sleep, Lex. Sleep before another O’Brien shows up scoping your house.”

She feels bad immediately after saying the words. Lex chides herself under her breath as she turns off the P.C. She doesn’t dawdle walking to her bedroom, grabbing a towel and clean pajamas, and hanging the clothes up in the adjacent bathroom. She opts to take off her makeup before her shower. The woman fetches a hand towel and damps it with makeup remover before quickly dabbing the mess off her cheek.

Lex winces when she sees the marking emerge. The scar has faded, but it can never _truly_ fade, not from her mind. Her brown eyes stare back at the two lines in the mirror.

 _Scar called them… marks of honor. Honor._ Her eyes flutter shut. She inhales, counts to five, exhales, counts to five, and repeats until her mind is not a spiraling emotional mess. Lex sets the dirty towel on the counter. She turns the knob in her shower and waits for the water to warm. When it begins steaming up her bathroom mirror, Lex undresses and steps into the tub. She pulls the curtain shut and relaxes under the heat of the water.

She slowly runs a bar of soap over her legs, her shoulders, her neck. Lex runs it down one arm, then the other. She breathes in shakily as she lathers soap across her nape, rubs some on the back of her ears, and then touches her torso, slowly working her way up.

 _God,_ she needs to unwind. She has too much pent up tension, her body like a spring ready to snap under the pressure of everything in her life. Lex sets the soap aside, shampoos her hair, and waits for the water to wash it away. She shaves under each arm and then works her way up her legs, starting at the ankle. It fills her with bittersweet memories of dolling herself up to surprise Nikoli when he got home from long days. He’s gone now. She knows that—She’s had years to mourn him.

But part of her still aches. Nikoli invaded a portion of her heart, captivating her in a million ways and then some. The man’s laugh was too pure, his smile too bright, and spirit too golden for a cruel, cruel world. Lex misses him in every way: his humor, his company, his touches both gentle and _not_ —He gave her so much love. Then he died. He died. She reminds herself he is dead; the dead cannot love the living.

Lex opens her eyes and stares at the showerhead. The water feels hot. It scatters as it falls, but for a moment Lex imagines it is the touch of another. She longs to trust someone to that degree once more, to find and flourish in the intimacy of another, to be reminded of how brilliant smiles are and how content she is to keep company around. She wants the little things, the big things, the _everything_ s in a relationship. Someone who won’t judge her for Antarctica, who will protect her child with her, who will make Lex feel safe.

Absentmindedly, solely out of a need to release the frustration and loneliness welled up inside her, Lex lets a finger drop down her torso, past her navel, and to her pelvis. Her fingers dip between her legs. She bites her lip.

 _I need this._ Lex knows. She tries to cycle through the different men in her life, picturing different individuals. Even in her raucous attempts to stimulate herself, her mind does not react the way her body does. She feels little for these men. She turns to something else: the memories of her late husband, of the man she loved dearly. The thought of the moments she shared with Nikoli spur a different reaction in her. A faint spike of heat coils in her groin and slowly begins to build; it causes her to exhale sharply where she sits in the tub.

 _Our first time together…_ The woman runs through the memories. _Missed our flight… Had to share a crappy hotel room. You couldn’t keep your hands off me, Nikoli._

She arches her back, her fingers deep in the most vulnerable part of her body.

_Or the time in the theater—No one else around—You thought it would be exciting—_

She rocks her hips against her hand, a panting mess under the water.

_And then—Then—When we were on our honeymoon—The beach—You made the corniest joke about taking my name… Mr. Woods._

Lex whimpers aloud, but no matter how much she tries to reach the sweet pleasure spot she _knows_ exist, her fingers can’t bring her to climax. The memories can’t bring her to climax. The woman sighs in her frustration. She takes a moment to stop and think, steam continuing to rise from the water spraying out the showerhead.

 _Who else?_ It kills her inside to think such terrible things, to betray Nikoli like that. Lex does it anyways, cursing herself on the inside as she struggles to think.

 _There was… in the pyramid…_ She intends to reflect on the tragedy of a man named Sebastien on her Antarctica expedition team, but he is not who comes to mind. Lex’s cheeks fill with heat at the thought of a much _taller_ individual taking her so intimately. She stares at the showerhead, speechless at the lowering bar she sets for herself. _He’s an alien, Lex. He should be a dead Predator. His allies helped kill your team. He would have had his way with you if you didn’t give him the weapon!_

Her use of words doesn’t help, sparking an entirely different train of thought. Lex feels the heat swell inside her. She shuts her eyes and prays to whatever cosmic deity might exist to forgive her, because she is far below a sinner. When she begins to push and thrust herself to pleasure, when her fingers squirm into the deepest, most intimate stretch of herself, when she cannot stop from imagining what it might be like, the two of _them_ , Lex finds herself unable to hold back. In the time it takes for pleasure to build, she gives up trying to think of anyone else. She embraces what she pictures in her head: huge, rippling muscles, a pair of devious, dangerous gold eyes, and thick, burly hands capable of handling her in any position.

The feeling in her abdomen wells and bubbles. Lex feels the water in her showerhead go from hot to warm as she loses track of time in the thought of _him_. She gives herself no respite, no relief, and she doesn’t stop even when the water becomes _cool_. Her brown eyes clench tight imagining him with a _phallus_. She moans louder and bucks into her writhing fingers. The action hits _just_ right; Lex gasps and arches her back, the soft cry of _his_ name on her lips as she sees stars and weeps pleasure.

_“Scar—!”_

She trembles climbing out of the shower after turning it off. She feels embarrassed putting on clothes. When she looks inside her room, neither the door nor the window appears disturbed. Lex inhales slowly and rubs her forehead. She needs sleep. She can address… _this_ problem later, after she’s had time to deliberate on why the thought of a murderous wall of muscle attracts her.

Lex climbs into bed in her pajamas. She ignores the alien pelts and pulls several blankets over her body. For the first time in her life, Lex prays to any cosmic deity out there to send her nightmares of the past, of the pyramid. She needs them to remember just how horrible it was, and to stomp the bizarre thoughts from her head.


	4. October 4th, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Pacing Anyways 
> 
> I am Tired  
> Enjoy

**October 4 th, ??? am.**

* * *

She feels the bed shift and move. A rustle of fabrics follows.

The woman is too tired to open her eyes. She is a mess adrift in fragmented dreams of a past that no longer exists: happy moments with her late husband, with the man she loved, only to remember he no longer walks among the living.

More rustling. Soft clicks.

Something is put on the bed around her. Not heavy, it doesn’t crack loud enough for that. Alexa feels softness against the bareness of her feet, hands, and neck. An almost alien softness, like the kind she tried to remove from her bed yesterday.

Rustling. Clicks. A soft, melodic chirp.

By now, her weary mind is aware of who is at work at her bedside, rearranging blankets and bizarre pelts over and around her. The heat of his body radiates off him to the point she feels herself begin to fade, cast into a hazy stupor. Lex pulls herself from sleep in order to roll over. She faces him, the latter lurking in the shadows, and traces his silhouette with her eyes once they adjust.

Scar doesn’t move. If he’s surprised—He doesn’t show it, speak it, reflect it. Perhaps those of his kind do not feel surprise.

She does. Humans do. Lex’s eyes water as the delayed tears start, rising only to fall in a mess on her cheeks. Her voice is a whisper when she speaks, full of shock and disbelief. “You came back.”

The alien does not answer, but she imagines him tilting his head to one side. Rustling fabrics indicate he begins to mess with the blankets again, building them around her like some form of fortress. This one is as large as the last, with enough room for two. Scar does not join her on the bed. It confuses the exhausted woman. She waits, and waits, but even after he finishes moving blankets and alien pelts around, he does not sit on the bed at her side.

Instead, his silhouette turns away. He clicks something she can’t decipher. Her dark brown eyes stare at what she assumes is his back while the Predator walks to her door.

“Scar—” Alexa breathes aloud.

The alien pauses. Chirps in acknowledgement.

She is awake now. She cannot sleep, not if it means he leaves again.

“Why did you come back?” Lex asks.

Scar is quiet a long while, quiet enough for her to question if he ignores her again. Her chest tightens at the thought, but she is too desperate to know, even if part of her knows _why_. He’s here to hunt. It’s a job or an order or _something_ , but she remembers enough of the pyramid to recall hearing how his species hunts the other aliens for sport.

Lex looks up a moment later and finds he is there, standing at the edge of her bed and its broken frame. He clicks at her, the words of a language she desperately _wants_ to know but cannot understand. Her shoulders slump.

“—Right. To hunt. You came here to hunt.” Lex thinks aloud.

The growl that comes from the Predator startles her. Lex feels the bed groan a second later, the weight of Scar’s body making it strain not to break further. She inhales sharply when he stops at her side, not quite sitting but crouched on the mattress. She expects him to hiss at her, or roar, or do _something_ she vaguely understands, but he doesn’t. Instead, the hunter begins to trill softly.

Her eyes grow wide and she stares as Scar reaches a clawed hand to her face. Her pulse quickens when he touches the mark on her cheek; the large hand slowly cups her cheek, pad of an equally large thumb rubbing the skin there. The trills become melodic, like the notes of a songbird.

Lex breathes out and leans her face into his grasp. She doesn’t know what either are doing, what it means or how to interpret it, but it’s clear it means something. Something she wants to believe is welcome. Shared.

A soft purring fills her ears. Lex’s body tenses at first but she soon relaxes upon remembering the sounds come from him. Her hands shake as she lifts them to his, seeking the heat of his touch to remind herself he is alive.

“I thought you died.” She says quietly. The purring falters a moment before picking up again, the rumble of the alien’s chest slightly more intense than before. Lex feels her eyes water again. Her hands grip his over her cheek. “I saw them—They took your body away—They left—I thought… I thought…”

His silhouette shifts to sit next to her. His hands leave—she feels the absence, the loss of heat, of him—and touch something on his wrist. Something loosens. Fabric rustles, but it isn’t until the alien takes her hand and puts it on his chest, she realizes he has taken off the top half of mesh covering his scaly form. Lex feels her face light up with heat. She shuts her eyes and exhales as her hand rests over Scar’s pectoral muscles.

His purring comes to a halt. He clicks at her, almost _goading_ in nature.

“Okay,” Lex answers him. She feels her stomach flip from her nerves. In complete darkness, Lex calms herself. Her palm presses against reptilian skin, an endless sea of bumpy scales against her fingertips. The texture is pleasant. She feels at ease with the beating of multiple hearts from beneath his skin, as if they are part of a lullaby lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

—Until her hand reaches the point of what she believes is a sternum. That is when the texture flips on end and Lex’s eyes widen. She shudders when her hand runs along what feels like a _massive_ scar stretching across the alien’s chest. It must be tender or sensitive, as the graze of fingers against the flesh provokes a low rumble from Scar’s throat.

“What happened to you?” Lex breathes, unable to hold back her concern. She hears Scar huff from beyond his mask. He shifts her hand to one of his. Any remaining thoughts die as her palm meets, neither interlacing nor holding the other. Lex feels the alien press outstretched fingers along her palm. His palm, fingers, the claw-like ‘nails’—It all trumps her in size.

His hand moves from hers. The alien resumes purring. He sits on the bed next to her and pulls a pelt over her body. Lex expects him to rise after and leave, but he does not. The Predator slowly lowers himself to her side, stretched out across her bed and pressing against her front. Scar’s purring becomes sweet and soft as she relaxes into him. She doesn’t feel like she has answers, yet the woman shuts her eyes feeling more at peace than before.

“You’re warm.” Lex yawns.

She leans her forehead against his chest and rests to the sound of clicking laughter followed by the reverberating purr of Scar’s chest and throat. It doesn’t take long to fall asleep, the knowledge someone watches her back tucked away in her mind.

* * *

**Six a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps. The bed is empty when she stirs and shuts off her alarm. Lex stares at the wall. Throughout the night, many dreams plagued her, but the moment in the morning helped soothe most of her grief. Part of her wonders if it’s her imagination, but then she remembers the feeling of scar tissue across the Predator’s chest. _What a wound… It wasn’t where the Queen hit him._

Initially, her mind clambers on autopilot. She doesn’t think much of pulling herself out of bed and dragging herself to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The storm of a century is expected to roll in approximately eleven a.m. She still needs to chop wood, run laundry, and make sure the generator outside is full of fuel before the storm begins.

Her time in the bathroom is short. Lex takes her medicine, does her makeup, but it isn’t until she begins putting things back into a drawer she realizes something odd: at one point in the night, someone laid her makeup out in a neat order, the exact one she goes through when hiding her _black serpent_ mark.

Lex frowns and plucks the concealer tube. _Why did you do this?_

Was he trying to help her? Surely not—She remembers how much the Predator detests the makeup.

But there is no other answer.

Her gaze softens. _Well. It was… helpful._

Maybe she can tell him in person later.

* * *

**Seven a.m.**

* * *

Lex fails to acknowledge the elephant in the room until she finishes dressing. Warm, thick clothes for the coming storm, fuzzy socks, and a beanie Camille O’Brien crocheted for her three years past. It is then she turns around the overhead light a poor source of visibility yet enough for her eyes to widen and lock unto a blob of bleached white bone.

It’s not an elephant. It’s a _bear._

A bear skull to be exact: cleaned, polished, perched on her night table next to her bed. Lex balks at the object, eying it in horror as if it will regrow flesh, a body, and come to life to eat her. It doesn’t; such outlandish things are reserved for Antarctica.

But it _is_ a skull. Lex nervously approaches it. Her hands shake as she reaches and touches the surface. Shudders drive through her body. The bone feels so _distinct._ A memorable texture, but one she wants to forget afterward. It is painful to think of the animal once being alive. Something took its life, whether it be old age or another of tis kind, and something took its skull as a trophy.

 _A trophy…_ Lex frowns. _Why leave one here?_

She picks it up. It weighs several pounds, five if she were to guess. Lex puts it on her dresser. The longer she stares at it, the less harrowing it seems. She knows Scar’s species hunts for sport, for _Honor_ specifically.

 _He should have it with him. Is he using my house to store his trophies?_ Her brows furrow at the thought. Lex has zero intentions to let a seven-foot-eight wall of muscle dump trophy skulls in her bedroom. _Especially_ if he tries to bring in human skulls.

Or—Any other part of her house. Why he chose her _bedroom_ for the skulls, for the blanket forts, it points to a reason. She does not know the reason, but one must exist. Perhaps he views her resources as his own, the marking on both their head’s linking one to another in a form of partnership.

 _Partners._ She tastes the word slowly, mouthing it out to an invisible audience. She’s used it before to describe the two of them, one alien and a human, lost in a pyramid several miles under the ice—But when she thinks it, breathes it, whispers it, it comes out differently. _Partners._

Her face fills with heat. Lex swallows and looks away from the bear skull. Her mind does not interpret _partners_ in the manner she is sure he perceives her as. Instead, her mind fills with thoughts less… appropriate.

 _Unbecoming, Alexa!_ Lex imagines her mother chiding her. She bites her lip. _I can ask him to… Convey why he’s using my house as a storage space. Hand gestures, chirps, something. Perhaps—A pen and paper? There must be an easier method for us to communicate._

Trying to think of a solution is better than letting her mind wander to thoughts which prompt a deep blush in her face. Lex takes several deep breaths. She calms herself, puts on slippers, and walks quietly down the hall.

Morning light filters through windows, giving a soft ambience to the rest of her home. She doesn’t expect to find anyone, with Kasey sleeping until nine or ten on weekends and Scar… She doesn’t know Scar. She does, but she _doesn’t._

She wants to.

Lex hears a grunt from the living room. She frowns and walks to it from the hall, stopping at the sight of Scar in the middle of _something._ For a moment, she is confused, but then the Predator exhales, his bare back to her, and takes a low position squatting over the floor. He rises, breathes, and repeats the action. Sweat gleams across the expanse of his back, leading her eyes on a goose chase around the Predator’s broad shoulders and rippling muscles.

 _He’s… exercising. Training? Is this his equivalent of a warmup? Surely not an entire workout…_ Lex bites her lip. She can’t bring herself to interrupt him.

She should, and she knows she wanted to a moment ago, but her mind is lost in thought as she stares. He looks so _different_ in only half a mesh suit and his loincloth. Lex’s face fills with heat as she watches him, her eyes locked on the contours of his sculpted body.

Scar’s yellowy, beige scales give his skin an odd texture that calls to her. Part of the woman wants to touch it. Her hands tense into fists as she works her gaze up and to the long, thick hair falling from the crown of his head. His hair is strange: thicker, heavily coiled, and strong enough to support ringlets of different metals.

She tells herself she doesn’t want to touch it, to touch _him_ , but it’s a lie she can’t make herself believe. He hasn’t been present more than a day, a day and a half, maybe two if the bastard hid from her initially, but her thoughts begin returning to him. She swallows in acknowledgement something between the two is very, _very_ different than the time in Antarctica. She doesn’t know him enough to pin what is different, but part of her _wants_ to know.

 _What’s wrong with me?_ Alexa asks herself in her head. She rubs her temples. _I’m not a grad school student with a crush. Put a sock in it and stop… Stop…_ She can’t finish the thought, heart in her throat and pounding wildly in her ears. For a woman of almost forty, she feels twenty again, uncertain and flustered with only the slightest grip on what life holds. She feels herself ache with needs she shouldn’t experience. She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes, imagining something—anything—else to bring her mind back to planet _Earth_.

 _Books, food, cars… Toilets. Dumpsters. Dog groomers._ It works, eventually. Her head clears. She doesn’t _feel things_ she shouldn’t feel. Lex calms, opens her eyes, and finds herself staring up at Scar’s face. Her face drains of color. She freezes in place as the scathing, intense golden eyes bear into her brown ones.

“You aren’t wearing a mask.” She whispers the observations.

The Predator’s tusks click together in soft snickers. Lex shakes her head and looks away. She feels embarrassed to be caught looking at him. She inhales softly when she feels a rough hand come down on her shoulder and squeeze it.

His other hand moves to her chin. He pushes gently until she lets him tilt her face back to face his. Scar has a strong grip, but he doesn’t hurt her. He watches quietly, as if waiting for _something_. Lex feels her body melt against him. She looks up, allowing herself to grow lost in the golden irises and infinite depths within them. Scar clicks in satisfaction. He trills and lowers himself down to rub his forehead against hers, the texture rough and intriguing.

_Warm._

It’s wonderful.

“You feel,” the woman breathes. “So warm—Scar. I…”

Lex swallows when her hands find their way to the hunter’s chest. She tentatively presses her fingers against the scales and muscles. Scar’s throat rumbles and his hands squeeze her shoulders again. He steps back and pulls her with him. She goes where he leads, mind ablaze with a sickening curiosity, with an ache she fears naming but longs for all the same.

 _What are you doing, Lex?_ Her brain screams. _He’s a Predator._

But he’s her partner. Her _old_ partner. Her partner who died in front of her and rose from the dead well past three days after. Her partner who came back to her and scared her half to death. _That_ partner. The _asshole_ partner.

The partner she missed.

 _What am I doing?_ She’s unaware of how the Predator moves her until her back hits the far wall. Scar’s body is _so_ tall, big, strong, and he feels massive towering over her. Lex falls quiet, her breathing heavy and strained. She looks up, lost in the moment, in him. The _something_ she has no words to describe feels tangible again, pulling her focus to his face, his eyes, him, him, _him_.

 _God,_ he’s warm. _So bloody warm._

Scar’s throaty rumbles have since transitioned to lower, deeper purrs. He seems pleased with her reactions; his purring grows as his hands _slowly_ fall to her arms. He hesitates only a second before reaching for her waist.

 _The skull._ Scar’s hands are a distraction she wants more of, but the rational half of her brain yells at her to address _other_ things. She whimpers softly when he takes hold of her hips. He’s gentle. Deadly, but gentle—For her.

 _No. Not for me. He’s not here for me. He’s not…_ She shudders under the alien’s tightening grip. His hands are so large, easily able to grasp most of her hips and keep her to himself. She knows he has a possessive streak; he demonstrated the same urgency to keep what is his to _himself_ when he hunted her down for his shoulder-mounted plasma gun. But this is not the _same_ kind of display, not the kind of violent, bloodthirsty possessiveness she expects him to convey. For as much as he holds her, he is exceedingly gentle, disgustingly cautious. She can breathe, move, _exist_ against him.

“Scar—Scar—” Alexa leans into him and pants into his chest. He smells incredible. She can barely choke out words she wants to say, “Scar—I—You—"

Then _she_ is on the floor and _he_ is on the floor _on_ her, leaning over her figure like a hunter about to claim prey.

He feels like fire. He makes her feel like fire. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way, a blaze she hasn’t felt in years surging up inside her abdomen. His purring deepens further, less a purr versus a deep, anticipating rumble. He leans down so his face is but an inch away. Her face burns with heat. The hunter clicks something at her, one of his hands brushing a scaly finger against the side of her face where her _black serpent_ mark hides.

 _Mark of honor,_ she remembers.

He straddles her with ease and trills softly.

 _Mark of honor. Mark of honor._ She knows what he wants to convey. Her marking is honorable; it makes her equal to him. He would not wrestle—and easily beat—a human if he thought she was anything less. 

In a weird way, it almost feels like the Predator seeks to comfort her. She doesn’t know if she’s anthropomorphizing him or not. She hopes not. She exhales and leans into his chest, prompting him to return to purring up until Lex shoves him off her. She sits up. Scar returns to sit next to her. He tilts his head to one side and chirps when she says nothing. 

She has no idea what has just happened. Lex catches her breath and wills her heart to stop racing. She looks to the side. Her mind blanks on what she wants to talk about, until she remembers the thing in her room and finally says, “I—We need to talk about what you’re doing here. Why you… Why you thought it’s acceptable to… To…”

She leans into him when he purrs. Lex grabs unto his arm.

“Stop that,” Lex grits her teeth. Scar falls silent, but she sees… _something_ in his eyes. “We need to talk, Scar. I need to know when and where and _why_ you obtained a bear skull—Why is it in _my room?”_

The Predator clicks under his breath and rises to his feet. He pulls the top half of his mesh suit back on and looks at her after, every muscle visible from morning light. He’s beautiful, and massive, and _absolutely_ capable of killing her in a heartbeat, but she doesn’t fear him, not right now.

He doesn’t answer her. The Predator picks up his mask and attaches it to his face, granting her respite from the piercing gold eyes. Alexa watches him begin to pull on the pieces of armor laying on _her_ coffee table and sofa. The hunter clicks at her when she looks away.

Lex sighs. “I wish we could communicate better.”

Another chirp, irate but in agreement.

“Don’t put more skulls in my room. At least—Not when I’m _sleeping,”_ the woman breathes in deeply. “No human ones, Scar. None. I’ll throw them out.”

 _That_ gets his attention. Scar snaps his head at her and clicks incessantly, too quick for any hope of her catching a scrap of the meaning. Lex crosses her arms and looks to the side. She says nothing. Eventually, Scar growls but trills in acknowledgement. He walks to the kitchen and a second later Lex hears the back door be wrenched open. Her eyes widen and she scampers to the kitchen, still in her slippers, and watches her old partner disappear within a field of crackling electricity. The air shimmers around where she _knows_ he remains at, but Lex pretends not to notice him creep out into the thick snowfall. She shuts the door behind him and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Fine. Make your own breakfast,” the woman mutters under her breath. “Kasey and I will be fine without you.”

* * *

**Ten a.m.**

* * *

“Mom!” Kasey calls from the table, spoon in one hand and empty bowl in front of her. Her dark locs dance as she squirms and wriggles in her seat; the child is too full of energy to sit still. “It’s snowing!”

“It always snows, pumpkin,” Lex hides her smile and shakes her head.

“But it means pajamas all day!” Kasey decrees and nods.

“No going outside if you’re in pajamas.” Lex loads dishes into the dishwasher. “You’ll have to stay in bed all day.”

Kasey sighs. “Fine… I’ll get dressed…”

Her daughter gets up and gives the bowl and spoon to Lex. Kasey puts her box of _Lucky Charms_ in a cupboard before she skips off down the hall to find clothes. Lex slowly relaxes into the routine of morning. She has already trudged outside in a thick winter coat and heavy boots to check the status of the windows and walls, reviewed what little camera feed she got before the storm obfuscated all visibility, and brought in extra wood for a traditional fire this evening. She has double-checked locations of her hidden weapons and changed out any dirty ones for clean ones. The electricity remains on and the house is warm.

Fifteen minutes later, Lex sits with a mug of hot chocolate at the kitchen table. She smiles at Kasey when her daughter emerges dressed in warm, striped sweatpants and a bright pink sweater over what she hopes isn’t a pajamas shirt. Kasey sees her hot chocolate and swoops in, clinging to her mother and eying the mug. “—Can I have some?”

Lex pretends to roll her eyes. She grins at Kasey’s shriek of despair. “Of course, pumpkin. Give me a second and I’ll get some going for you.”

“Yes!” Kasey dances around the kitchen, spinning and wiggling in leaps and bounds. She almost knocks into the counter, but the young girl catches herself in time. Lex narrows her eyes but relaxes when Kasey begins giggling, “Mom, you looked so silly—”

It takes another fifteen minutes to get the hot chocolate ready for her pumpkin. Kasey eagerly attempts to grab it out of her hands when Lex brings it over, but the latter holds it out of reach. “Don’t go around grabbing hot things like that, pumpkin.”

“Sorry…” Kasey frowns, eyes still locked on the mug. 

Lex sets the mug in front of her. She sits next to Kasey while the latter gleefully picks up the mug and revels in its warmth. The two sit there awhile, both of them enjoying their own hot beverages while the scent of cocoa swirls through the air. Lex relaxes in the peace of her house. For all the chaos in her life, Alexa Woods finds there are tiny pockets of tranquility and joy worth wading through all the shit. Enjoying hot chocolate on a cold day with her daughter is one of those joys.

“We should make some for your friend,” Kasey pipes up eventually. Her brown eyes are bright and giddy. “I bet Mister Scar would like some!”

Lex’s good mood drops to the pit of her stomach. She sets her now-empty mug on the table. “…I would have to ask him, pumpkin, I’m not sure if… If he likes chocolate.”

“Who doesn’t like chocolate?” Her daughter frowns.

“Some people are allergic to chocolate,” is her response. “Just like you’re allergic to bees.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” Kasey grumbles.

Lex is grateful her daughter accepts the answer. She isn’t sure how to explain _he doesn’t have lips and I don’t know if his species enjoys chocolate_ as an answer. The woman is positive Kasey views Scar as a human in a suit, nothing more, and while it provides an explanation _now_ , she imagines it is inevitable the truth will one day come out.

 _Especially if he keeps coming here._ Her brows furrow. She isn’t sure if boundaries are a thing among Scar’s kin. It is a reminder she still lacks most knowledge, that her understanding of him is nowhere near his understanding of _her_. She wants to learn more, she does, but it is difficult when he is in and out of her life—And that is only based on him being around for _two_ days.

 _Why did you come back?_ She drums her hands on the table absentmindedly. _Why did you come here? You could get supplies anywhere on this planet with your cloaking technology. You came to this little patch of dirt in Alaska. Why, Scar? To hunt?_

He seems willing to hunt the aliens running amuck in the area, but it doesn’t mean he is there _to_ hunt aliens.

_What are you here for, Scar?_

Lex feels heat climb up her chest and spill into her face when she recalls how the two wound up that morning. He felt _so_ warm and close leaning over her, his hips pressed against hers, huge yet fitting together so _right_ —Lex shakes her head of the thoughts. She doubts he understands the implications of his actions. It is the only conclusion she can come to, because the idea of other things terrifies her in its appeal.

“Can I call Wanda today?” Kasey’s voice stirs her from her thoughts.

Lex pauses, considers, and then nods. “After lunch, pumpkin.

“Yes!!! Wanda! Wanda!” Her daughter cheers. Her mug sits abandoned on the table while Kasey gets to her feet and begins dancing around the kitchen. Alexa smiles and shakes her head, the thought of her alien partner slipping away as she settles into the calm stupor of the house once more.

* * *

**Eleven a.m.**

* * *

The blizzard bears down in endless white waves of snow. Kasey sits cocooned in a blanket on the sofa while Lex sits next to her, not cocooned but a blanket draped over her lap. Her daughter’s eyes are locked unto the P.C. screen, where an animated movie of a man and his moving castle plays. Lex has seen _Howl’s Moving Castle_ to know it inside and out, and for once the captivating animation does not captivate her focus.

No, her focus is far, far away from her quaint house.

 _How do you deal with the cold, Scar? Does it bother you? Your species?_ The subject lingers on her mind as the movie continues playing. Lex’s eyes drift to one window. There is zero visibility, only white, and for some reason—a reason she is beginning to grow irate with—it tugs at her heartstrings.

She worries for him. It is _ridiculous_ to think her mind dwells on the walking wall of muscle, that she worries about _him_ in the snow, but she does. Lex exhales silently. _Your species travels the stars. Why am I worried about a little snow?_

The same warmth as before, the one she felt in the morning, the one she felt with him, the one she felt a long time ago with her late husband, it all flickers inside her chest like a budding flame. Alexa can only think one thing.

_Bollocks._

Her watch beeps.

* * *

**One p.m.**

* * *

After Kasey finishes helping her load dishes into the dishwasher, Lex puts away the two’s leftovers from lunch. Making homemade burritos is a fun activity, but the woman must contend with putting away used oil into a spare container, wiping her counters and table down, and changing the trash. She drags the full bag to her garage and leaves it there for when the storm passes. If Scar hunts the aliens, maybe she and Kasey can stay in Alaska. Maybe she can go back to doing normal _Alexa Woods_ things like driving bags of trash to the dump in town.

 _Scar…_ He isn’t back yet from waltzing around outdoors. Alexa feels the twist of worry return in her stomach. _Calm yourself, Lex. He’s a… Predator. This is what they do. They hunt prey._

She needs a distraction. Having Scar back, _alive,_ around her so much lately—It wears on her. Lex has only scratched the surface of things she wants to say to him.

 _Would he care about what I want to say? Even if I am… Marked._ She catches herself beginning to reach for the _black serpent_ on her cheek. She stops and balls her hand into a fist. _Damnit, Lex. Get a grip on yourself. He’s a wall of muscle from another world, not a… Not a human. Does it matter what he thinks of you?_

It makes her ache inside to know the answer. _Yes._

She doesn’t want him to leave again.

Part of her fears she has already driven him off. Perhaps he is an alien who enjoys being rude as dickens to her, but he is still Scar. Her partner. The one bloody individual she’ll excuse when he pretends to shove a spear at her.

 _Only once. He tries again and I’ll jam it down his throat._ Lex’s brows furrow at the thought. She doesn’t condone violence, but she does feel pettiness over the alien’s _joke_. Extraterrestrial humor is not her cup of tea.

The woman takes a second to calm down when she walks to her bedroom and hunts for her phone. She doesn’t want to sound off to Camille when she calls. Lex finds her phone and slowly dials Camille’s number. Her neighbor picks up after one ring.

 _“Why, what a treat! You are a dear, Alexa, calling this old woman up just before afternoon tea—”_ The old woman rattles off a long complaint. Lex isn’t sure if it is the compliment version of an underhanded insult. She grimaces to herself when Camille cheerfully inquires, _“Sweetheart, how can I help you? Do you need anything? William mentioned you’ve been feeling not so well since the bear incident. He’s here right now, actually—William! William, it’s Alexa Woods! Oh, sweetheart, hold on one second—"_

“That’s not necessary—Hi, William,” Lex cringes internally when she hears the man take the phone. She does not want to spend time on the phone with William O’Brien.

 _“Ah’m real grateful ya called, Miss Alexa,”_ William grunts, voice full of relief. _“We worry real sick of yah out here. Been keepin’ eyes out for ‘em bears, but no luck.”_

“Me neither.” Lex walks to her daughter’s bedroom, preparing to conjure an excuse to pass off the phone.

_“—Say, are ya hangin’ in there? Been wond’ring if ya in need of a someone comin’ by—”_

“No—No! No, that isn’t necessary, thank you, William. Kasey and I have been alright since you put the door up.” The woman keeps her tone calm. She imagines she sounds strained, but hopefully not enough to send off any bells as she rakes her head for excuses. “I just wanted to—Say hello—Kasey actually—She wants to talk to Wanda. Is Wanda there?”

 _“Hmm, Wanda? My little ol’ Wanda? She’s hidin’ here some’ere, I reckon. Gimme a second, Miss Alexa.”_ William hands the phone to Camille, who promptly erupts into a one-sided game of twenty questions. Alexa is more than ready to listen to William talk by the time he wrangles the phone from his mother. William’s voice comes through the speakers, _“Here’s Wanda!”_

 _“Kasey?”_ Wanda shyly asks after taking the phone.

Lex’s heart melts. She knocks on Kasey’s door while answering, “Hello, Wanda. If you can wait a second—I know Kasey would love to have a word with you—”

 _“Kasey!! Kasey! Yes! Kasey! I want to talk to Kasey!”_ The voice on the other line sounds like a whole different person.

It fills the woman with warmth to see Kasey’s face light up when her daughter opens the door and Lex explains who is on the phone. Kasey swipes the phone from her grasp and makes a running leap unto her bed. She almost crashes and rolls off the side, but her daughter catches herself while Lex clutches her chest and wills her heart to _calm_.

Her pumpkin is a tough girl.

* * *

**Three p.m.**

* * *

Lex’s watch beeps. She turns the alarm off and resumes staring out the window. Her laundry won’t finish its current load for another twenty minutes, and there is nothing she _wants_ to do but sit and watch the snow fall in hopes a shimmering figure might waltz through the door in the middle of it.

No shimmering figure comes.

He’s okay. He _is_ okay. Lex decides he is okay. She chides herself for worrying, and then scolds herself for having a weird attachment to an alien.

 _Attachment. That’s the word._ Lex forces the heat in her face to subside. _The events in Antarctica made me develop an… an attachment to him. To a tall, seven-foot-eight walking wall of muscle._

But that train of thought only leads to more thoughts. Thoughts about her therapy program and all she’s done to get to the point of stability and functioning she is at today. Thoughts about the years spent moving on past Antarctica, building up her routines, and putting together a life for herself even after Nikoli’s sudden death. Thoughts about her goals for the future, her needs for right now, and her wants which come and go so fickly as the wind.

To say she hasn’t thought of her old partner _once_ during the past sixteen years is a lie. He isn’t _just_ an alien she bumped into in the pyramid. He decided to take a chance in dragging her along with him in the pyramid. He extended enough trust to give her a spear and shield made by his own hands. He watched her back where she watched his. In the pyramid—temple, perhaps—where black serpents roamed and slaughtered her friends and his allies, Lex survived with him, _together_.

 _We found a way to communicate more than I could with half those humans. He listened to me._ Guilt tugs at her heart when she turns the thought over in her head. Lex bites her lip and glances at the stove. Hot chocolate won’t bring back the dead, but it might soothe her thoughts.

* * *

**Five p.m.**

* * *

“Mom, are you okay?” Her daughter asks once the two finish preparing a venison pot pie and putting it in the oven. Kasey sits in a chair next to the table while Lex gathers up used dishes and begins to soak and scrub them.

She pauses with soap suds lingering on her hands. Lex looks over her shoulder. “What, pumpkin?”

“You’re acting funny.” Kasey frowns widely.

“I’m tired,” Lex answers while she picks up a sponge laden with dish soap and waves it around. “Look at all these dishes, pumpkin, they won’t wash themselves.”

“But we have a dishwasher!”

“Do dishwashers run themselves?” Lex holds a hand to her face and blows soap bubbles at Kasey. The bubbles don’t get anywhere close to the girl, but Kasey squeals and pushes her chair away anyways. Lex smiles, satisfied the conversation is over.

* * *

**Seven p.m.**

* * *

The pie turns out delicious. The bottom is a little soggy, but the top of the pie and the sides are crisp enough to ignore base of the pie. Kasey gobbles two pieces in minutes while Lex raises a brow and stares at her daughter’s voracious appetite. She laughs softly when Kasey sprawls over the edge of the table, head pressed against the table surface, all in attempt to reach the venison pie pan _just_ out of reach.

Kasey whines at her. “Mom!!”

Lex tilts her head to one side. “Eating.”

“The pie!” Her daughter huffs and writhes in her seat.

“We do have a pie, yes,” Lex grins ear-to-ear when she sees her daughter scowl at her. “You can’t demand I drop everything I do and fetch you pie.”

 _“Please_ pass me pie!” The melodramatic tone makes Kasey sound like she’s daughter is about to die of starvation. She isn’t.

 _You get that from my mum’s side of the family..._ Lex thinks. She serves Kasey a slice and is about to pick up the second-to-last piece when her daughter exhales in _horror_ at her. Lex frowns and looks at Kasey. Kasey stares back, brown eyes big as saucers.

“You need to leave some for your friend!” Kasey decrees, now upright in her chair. She huffs when Lex puts a piece on her plate anyways. “ _Mom!_ What if your friends gets here and there’s no food?”

“He can come talk to me about it.” Lex pops a forkful of pie into her mouth. _Delicious._

Kasey isn’t satisfied with her response, but her daughter soon forgets about Lex’s ‘friend’ and returns to babbling about pies and Wanda and movies. Tonight, she wants to watch something called _Big Hero 6._ Alexa has never seen it, but she remembers overhearing Kasey’s classmates praise it during one of her daughter’s virtual classes.

* * *

**Nine p.m.**

* * *

The two don’t get the chance to watch _Big Hero 6._ Kasey remembers she has a project due Monday she hasn’t started on. A little over an hour and a half later, Kasey wraps up the art project and thanks Lex for her help. Alexa kisses her on the forehead and ushers her to bed, wishing her a good night’s rest before shutting the door.

* * *

**Ten p.m.**

* * *

Lex’s watch beeps.

She doesn’t feel ready to prepare for bed until she locks the doors and windows, then checks the locks to make sure she isn’t imagining them. Lex returns to her room after. She takes off her makeup, brushes her teeth, and finds warm pajamas. The woman shuts her bathroom door and turns on the shower. She stares at the mirror as the water heats up, noting every crease in her skin, every wrinkle on her body, and the bags under her eyes. Lex grimaces; she looks weary as ever, if not more so than yesterday.

The water feels nice, like a hot caress against her skin. The steam rising feels equally nice. Lex relaxes and washes her hair. She keeps her thoughts off the elephant not in the room; the last thing she needs is to repeat yesterday’s fantasizing over a homicidal alien from _she doesn’t know_.

But the water is warm. Steady. Constant. The kind of things she wants on _her_ at that moment.

“Phenomenal, Lex, astronomically phenomenal,” The woman runs a bar of soap on her legs, her arms, her body. She bites her lip when she washes her abdomen, neck, and breasts. The familiar heat comes back to her with a vengeance. Lex sighs and shuts her eyes as her thoughts start to wander, “Why does it have to be you _now?_ Why does it have to be you—Here—Like this—”

She lets the soap wash off her body and turns the shower off. The lewd thoughts swirl around her head while she dries herself off and puts on pajamas. Her _black serpent_ mark stares at her from the mirror’s reflection once the steam dissipates and it defogs.

She looks at the counter, where just a day ago her old partner had her against the mirror, insistent on trying to snatch her makeup away. She knows she would never tolerate the behavior from a human. But Scar is not a human.

 _Am I making excuses for him?_ She bites her lip. _Seeing him again—That’s why—It’s why these thoughts are coming out. In a couple days, I won’t remember this or care about him. I’ll see his flaws and he’ll see mine and we can go our separate ways. Just like… before._

Her heart falls in her chest. She leaves her bathroom, turns off the light, and crawls into bed. Alexa wants to curse and laugh at the same time at the never-ending, seemingly infinite fortress of blankets still on her bed. She pulls one ‘brick’ free and unfolds the comforter to cover her. Beneath her is one of the alien pelts Scar left her; it feels incredibly soft. But it isn’t warm. It isn’t the rough texture of her old partner’s skin. It doesn’t react the way he does, with a racing pulse mirroring her own, or a set of snickers when she loses herself in his eyes.

Her hand creeps beneath the comforter. Alexa shuts her eyes when her hand dips beneath the waistband of her pants, then her underwear. She bites her lip hard when she begins to rub against herself, fingers dragging across her skin and slowly circling the tiny bundle of nerves. She exhales softly and lets her mind wander.

 _Warm._ She imagines the large hands feeling, prodding, _touching_ her. _Always warm._

Next is the curvature of his muscles: the rippling, beautiful biceps, the easily grabbed abdominal muscles, the sharpness of his hips, the curve of his thighs and tension of his calves—All over her, crushing her beneath like she’s one of his kind, like she’s capable of handling every inch of his flesh.

 _Every inch…_ She moans softly as she lets the first finger enter. _I don’t even know if—If you have a—_

Her finger writhes in her. She pushes herself deeper with one hand while her other grabs a fistful of blanket. Lex begins to pant and gasp when she feels out the perfect point of pleasure inside herself. She arches her back as she thrusts into the spot. “God—Please—”

She imagines what it might be like if he did have one. Bumpy, like the rest of him. Scaly, like his skin. The texture coarse and rough and _perfect_ for grinding every spot inside her, dipping and diving to even the deepest points of bliss, ramming into them until all she can do is shake in coming release. Lex cannot help crying out the alien’s name as she orgasms. She collapses in a heap on her bed.

“Scar…” The woman sighs and looks at her ceiling. She intends to roll over and sleep just like that: a mess in the blankets and pelts, desperately trying to shut out all the thoughts that fill her with shame and lust and _aliens_.

She doesn’t get the chance. The bedroom door swings, and the woman jolts upright in bed. She stares at the figure in the doorway, obsidian skulls in his arms as he steps forward and growls deeply.

Lex's chest tightens. She swallows, “Hey, Scar.”


	5. October 4th-5th, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of part 1. there's one more 'part' about things post-blizzard, but I'm slow writing this. probably won't go past 8/9 chapters altogether. 
> 
> if you have been enjoying this, please feel free to check out my other stories for more cute and spicy aliens. ^_^

**October 4 th, 2020. Eleven p.m.**

* * *

“Hey, Scar,” Alexa whispers, eyes wide and mind alert.

The woman scrambles to grab the nearest blanket and cover herself. She wants to shrink into her mattress and disappear completely in sheer embarrassment. 

The growl Scar gives her in response is deep and full of intent, not at all muffled by his mask.

“This—This is awkward," She begins but stops, unsure of _how_ to explain the painfully humiliating scene _._ Lex watches the alien walk to her bathroom. Scar dumps the obsidian-colored skulls on her bathroom counter. A hiss follows; Lex’s heart races in her chest at the realization he unclasps his mask and pries it off. 

She peeks out of her blanket fort and finds the Predator’s gold eyes already back on her. Her heart pounds wildly as Scar growls at her again, low and full of wanting. He _slowly_ walks to her bedside, posture tense. Lex shrinks underneath her blankets another inch. She does not feel _afraid_ ; it is not fear spurring her thoughts. Rather, she is mortified and aghast at _herself_ , for not being more careful about where and when she does _this_ , for thinking of someone other than Nikoli in the first place— _and_ for Scar finding out _this_ is what she thinks of him.

Her brown eyes meet a burning, molten gold. Heat hotter than fire shoots through her body when she feels her bed shift and groan under the weight of Scar climbing on. In a second, the Predator no longer looks at her from her bedside but from above. His form hovers over her. Scar clicks at her while she shudders at the feeling of his knees between her thighs. His plates of armor jab into her soft flesh. He stops at her head, leaning down to eye her. His throat rumbles. The noise reverberates through Scar’s chest. 

The alien straddles her. His body feels excruciatingly hot.

His hands caress her shoulder. Lex bites her lip.

Scar grabs her hand and her face erupts in heat. She stares, stupefied, as the alien pulls it to his face. His gold eyes give nothing away as he clicks slowly, deliberately, looking from her slick fingers to her. When she says nothing, the alien chirps at her. Lex’s face becomes redder. She opens her mouth to speak, but her words melt into a soft noise when Scar takes her fingers and brings them to his inner jaws.

A long tongue flicks out and tastes her. The alien begins to purr again as she sputters incoherent words.

This is not how she thought he would react. This is _so_ much better than any fantasy in her head.

Scar trembles over her. His arms easily hold him up, but he growls louder, harder, heavier. His breathing is ragged. The scent of _him_ fills the room and permeates Lex’s nostrils. Lex feels heat blaze across her body; she pants against him, leaning into his touch, seeking something she tiptoes around but wants.

Scar’s hands move to her neck, sliding up to her jawline, and there—slowly—Scar begins to caress the marking of her _black serpent._ He trills in satisfaction at its visibility. His hands rub circles into her skin and all Lex can do is moan softly. The noise riles something up in the Predator. He begins to hiss and growl with growing frustration—This time, it is directed at _himself_ , at his armor, at what she realizes is blocking the two from crossing the rapidly approaching line.

Lex bites her lip. Her cheeks are bright red. Her body aches more than ever before.

Scar’s hands leave her. He begins to undress, doffing each piece of his armor and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor while he remains straddling her. He growls at her in a way she doesn’t recognize. He sounds excited, but it isn’t like the noises he makes for slaughtering _black serpents_. It is more personal, for her. It makes Lex writhe beneath him. She breathes in his scent once more and reaches to touch his chest. She feels pain in her torso, from where her burns _fucking hurt_ , along with the familiar sting in her burnt hand—a mess of gauze and bandages—but at this exact moment, she struggles to care about either injury.

“Scar— _Scar,”_ she feels desperation welling up inside her. It seizes her in seconds; she grabs the mesh covering his chest and pulls him down to her. Her fingers tangle in the fishnet-like matrix, both eager to hold unto it and to keep him there.

Memories of Antarctica return, but they are not the terrors she sees in her dreams. Her mind drowns in the thoughts of the two together, individuals of two different species and worlds fighting side-by-side against the never-ending _black serpents_. The only one capable of watching her back.

“You motherfucker,” she grits her teeth, eyes welling with tears. She feels how he holds himself, one hand bracing his weight as to not crush her, but in that moment all she wants is to have him hold _her_. Lex stares adamantly at the hunter before she shifts her hands from the gorgeous, sculpted muscles of his chest to his neck. Scar lowers his forehead to hers.

Lex hiccups. She feels many things. Things she knows she cannot speak to others, things she cannot leave behind, things, things, _things_ —And in a second, looking at Scar’s brilliant, golden eyes, she thinks he feels things, too.

“Did you come here to taunt me?” She cups his face, fingers dancing over the lower two mandibles protecting his inner jaws. “Is this one of your jokes? Making fun of—"

Scar cuts her off; he growls at the suggestion. He rubs his forehead against hers. Lex presses back against him, hearing the soft hiss and shuddering beneath him.

It invokes the purring noise in the Predator. Scar’s throat rumbles—she can feel it when she drifts her hands to his neck—and he shifts his position. He lowers himself to her body and rubs against it, purring all the while. As much as his actions stir the growing heat in her gut, Lex remains… many things. Things she hasn’t named. Things she thinks but doesn’t do—Yet. Things. Things. Things.

 _God._ The sheer spike of pleasure that comes when the Predator’s purring reverberates through her chest is—unfathomable. Lex’s hands shift again in a mess to try and map out Scar’s broad shoulders and the dozen alien muscles beneath his scale-covered skin. She bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut when the _want_ fills her body with the deep, brooding ache she satisfied just before his arrival.

Lex feels so warm beneath him. She feels warm, and she feels safe; she feels safer than she has felt in years. It’s because of him—so many fucking things are at this point—and she revels in it, in the warmth, in the present, before Scar purrs anew and sends her back to her shaking, eager state. She clambers to bring him closer, to pull him down, to press herself into every curve and angle of his body. He purrs louder, pleased at her response, before he bucks his hips down and conveys just what he’s after. The feeling of his codpiece grinding against her hips and pressing _just_ right is enough to make Lex sing his name in a breathless, washy way.

When he does it again—It makes her see stars.

“Scar—Scar, wait,” Lex grits her teeth, a semblance of rational thought kicking in. The Predator stills, a set of clicks following that are somewhere between confused and something she can’t tell. Part of her wants to call it concern, but she doesn’t know what concern sounds like.

The Predator sits up, now straddling her waist. He’s huge compared to her. Lex bites her lip and looks up at him. She props herself up with her forearms at the sides of her torso. The pelts beneath her stink of her, but also of the musk Scar produces. It makes something twist in her gut to think of how the two scents mix. Scar chirps at her, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t laugh,” is the first thing Lex says.

The way Scar tilts his head to one side is both innocent and willfully ignorant.

Lex exhales. “I—I need to know, okay? Did—Did you come here—To Earth—To Alaska—For _me?”_

Scar’s mandibles begin to click together. He catches himself and stops laughing when Lex growls. The Predator leans over her _carefully_ , ever vigilant not to drop his weight on her body, before he leans and rubs his forehead against hers. He purrs as he draws back and moves to rub against her cheek, against the _black serpent_ marking.

Lex bites her lip. “Oh. That’s—”

Scar purrs louder. Lex sighs against him. She wraps her arms around his neck.

“I don’t even—How does this work? How does any of this work—It’s only been a few days—And you’re here again—And those _fuckers_ are, too—And this…" Lex bites her lip, hard. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him. She concentrates on the Predator’s purring and the way it reverberates through his body into hers. Already, she feels parts of herself tingle and react. Already, she knows how she wants this night to end. The thought makes her whimper. _Her_ sounds makes Scar’s purring dip from soft and comforting to a needy huskiness.

But he doesn’t move. He stays still this time, letting her dictate whether she wants to push things further. Lex shuts her eyes and calms her racing heartbeat. She holds him tightly, unwilling to let him go.

“I don’t know anything about your biology—How to make _this_ work,” she confesses, one hand freeing to gesture from him to her. Lex stares up at him. His eyes hold an unusual tenderness to them.

Scar holds himself up with one hand while the other takes her hand and moves it to the marking on his forehead. Lex knows what it means instantly. _Trust me._

“I do,” she tells him, earning an eager trill in response. “Show me.”

* * *

**October 5 th, 2020. Twelve a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps.

It is promptly pulled off and put on her bedside table. Lex swallows and leans back in the pelts while Scar watches her. He waits until she settles and nods at him before the Predator straddles her and gently takes hold of her shoulders. His purrs deepen as he squeezes—against, with surprising gentleness—and touches her shoulders, only to shift his claw-tipped hands to her shirt. Lex breathes in deeply and nods.

Scar lets go long enough for her to pull the shirt up and over her head. His gold eyes flicker across her form with fascination. Yet when his eyes fall unto the bandages, he stills and clicks things she cannot follow. Lex blinks before she sighs and shakes her head. “That—The black serpent you took from my room—Its blood hit me.”

The growl Scar makes is nothing short of _furious,_ but the anger isn’t directed at her. Lex stares in bewilderment as the Predator climbs off her and grabs a chunk of his armor from the floor. She watches with growing fascinating as he taps the side and prompts a small compartment to eject and spring free into an assortment of shiny metal tools. Scar retrieves what looks like a _syringe_. Lex stiffens where she lays; she sits up and inches backward when he takes the syringe and fills it with a clear liquid. He straightens upright and turns to her, gesturing her to come to him.

“Is this going to kill me?” She balks.

Scar begins to click incessantly, the offense of her words being evident a moment later. He chirps at her to come to him. Lex sighs and drags herself over. She yelps as Scar puts a hand over her mouth and jams the needle into the burn along her torso.

The pain is immediate. Her screams are muffled by the Predator. For a second—All Lex sees is white, her brain unable to comprehend just _what_ is happening as a sickly sensation clings to her torso and crawls beneath her skin. It feels like something being stitched together, being grown, and she wants nothing more than for it to stop.

It stops after a time. Lex feels tears fall down her face. She hears Scar putting away the medical equipment before he sits next to her from the bed. He pulls her to him and purrs until she’s calm. As the agonizing, throbbing pain fades away, Lex finds there is no other pain in her torso. She looks down, eyes wide as saucers. Her flesh has mended itself. The scar is large and prominent. Lex looks back to Scar, mouth ajar with dozens of questions, but he simply tilts his head at her and continues purring.

“Incredible. You’re—Incredible,” Lex utters in disbelief. She holds her breath when Scar touches her hair with his hand. He slowly runs a clawtip through it, his purring ceasing in favor of curious clicks. Lex smiles, beside herself. “Don’t pull on it.”

Scar huffs.

His hands continue playing with her hair. They slowly move from her roots to the ends of her hair, then back to her scalp. He begins to drag the pads of his fingers across her skin. Lex’s heartbeat begins racing as she feels his hand dip down her head and to her neck. He trails the fingers lower still, hissing softly as he brings his hand to her collarbone. He waits there. Lex realizes he waits for her permission. It is the line in the sand; barring other interruptions, she knows the two’s relationship with one another will be different if the two go forward.

She takes his hand and moves it lower. Her face lights up with heat as she sets his hand on her breast. Her back arches; she presses her chest into his hand when he gives her an experimental squeeze. When his clawtip brushes her erect nipple, Lex voices her pleasure in a sudden, high-pitched moan. 

He is on her in a second. She sees just how much restraint he’s held back when he climbs on top of her and begins growling and panting for her touch. Lex stares at the Predator’s two gold eyes; the intensity makes her legs quiver. He looks so _hungry_ , hungry for her. Her stomach does flips as Scar holds himself up over her and rolls his hips into hers. His codpiece grinds against her pelvis; she grabs hold of the mesh suit he wears. Scar stops long enough to pry her hands off him and push them to the bed. Lex shudders when he pins her hands to the bed with his own. Scar purrs with glee as he lowers his head to her neck and drags his tongue down her throat.

Hot, bumpy, riddled with a texture she can’t get enough of—She begins to beg for him to continue, she _begs_ , and he listens. He growls as he spends long minutes grinding his hips into her. He breathes heavily as he rocks the codpiece into her groin. She writhes and bucks her hips into his in return, unable to get enough to satiate the wretched throbbing and desire in her loins.

When he stops to pull off the mesh bodysuit and remaining garb, Lex uses the opportunity to wriggle out of her pants. She exhales sharply when Scar grabs her hips and rips through her underwear. His desire to fuck her is beginning to overtake him. Lex grows wetter at the thought. She clutches him tightly and digs her blunt human nails into his scales while he spreads her legs and positions himself. He begins to rub something rough and bumpy against her pelvis. She shakes in realization of what it is, of how _big_ it is.

“Scar. Scar—Go slow—” Lex gasps as she feels him rub the end of his shaft against her clit. The tiny bundle of nerves shoots white flashes of pleasure up her body. She whines pathetically for more of his touch, prompting the Predator to trill with satisfaction.

She looks at _it_ when she has the chance. Her eyes make out Scar pushing her knees up toward her chest. His pelvis is bare, and she sees _everything_ he has to offer. The alien’s anatomy is not unlike a human’s, though she cannot spot a scrotum. His penis looks roughly nine inches long, though whether that is common across his species she does not know. It has the girth of four fingers clustered together, and a long line of bumps along the top and bottom sides of the shaft. There are rough scale patches toward the base. The head of Scar’s cock is bulbous, with a murky yellow hue. He throbs and dribbles pale green precum.

She realizes he watches her when her eyes shoot up to his. Scar clicks in amusement. He continues to rub himself against—but not into—her. Lex pants heavily. She grabs his arms and nods.

He’s not like humans she’s been with. He has natural lubrication along the sides of his shaft, dripping greedily as he lines himself up. Lex’s eyes widen and she arches her back with a sharp cry as he penetrates her. She stretches around the head of his cock, mewling softly and failing to hold still as Scar bucks his hips forward and opens her for the rest of him.

She feels every bump on his cock drag along the inside, poking and prodding into spots which leave her weak beneath him. Lex’s grip on his arms tighten; she hears his growl as he pumps himself inside. In, out, inch-by-inch, she swallows his length and whimpers for more of the sweet, delicious friction. She feels him thrust with more vigor. Lex groans and melts underneath him while Scar rocks his hips into hers. The woman gasps when he brings her to orgasm, only for Scar to continue thrusting furiously through her squeezing muscles.

Lex feels his hand clamp over her mouth as she yells in euphoria from each thrust. Over and over, the Predator is relentless in smacking the two’s hips together. Scar hisses at her, _for_ her, as she takes him, and takes him again, and takes him again with muffled pleas to continue. She writhes against him all the while, the burn of her stretched body dulling from the overwhelming lust.

Scar shudders when she clamps down on him in a particularly wild climax. Lex trembles against him as her orgasm drags her kicking and sobbing through white flashes of pleasure. She throbs and whimpers beneath him, clutching for his chest just as he fills her to the hilt with his cock. Lex’s overstimulated nerves begin to ache, but she continues to take his thrusts. She cries out again, one hand dropping to her swollen clit in desperation. She grinds her fingers against it, and masturbates furiously, while Scar growls with pride and satisfaction at the noises she makes.

His ensuing snarls are quieter than before, but he is all Lex hears when he pins her to her bed. All she can do is call his name and clutch blankets while he claims her for himself. Scar is a greedy man; Lex feels him hold back on his own climax more than once so he can continue with hers. But his stamina has a limit; he begins to make noises she doesn’t recognize. The groans waver, the growls falter, and with a great, heaving thrust to her core, Scar holds her against him and climaxes. His cry is one of great pride, of nothing but sheer jubilance and triumph, and he clutches her like she is a valuable trophy as he humps into her body.

The scalding heat is enough to make Lex sigh softly. By the time Scar pulls out of her, she is calm against his chest. He purrs for her, pleased and satisfied, but she hears the gentle rumble tell another story. It is a method to convey affection. She listens to it for a time, lost in the rumble of his chest, his throat, and the four heartbeats racing beneath the Predator’s muscle and pelt.

Her thoughts drift lazily as the two lay there. Neither have yet to move or clean. For a short time, neither appear to care. Lex knows she doesn’t, not when so much runs through her head.

“—I missed you. Mourned you. Mourned what could’ve been,” Lex utters softly. She reaches for him and rests against his chest. Scar’s throat rumbles and he strokes her back. She sighs. “You’re a huge asshole for making me think you were going to kill me with your spear.”

He clicks with chortles.

“Still an asshole.” The woman grunts.

She hears the purring pick up again, warm and affectionate.

Scar chirps at her. Lex doesn’t know whether to smile or groan. She finds herself smiling slightly when the massive alien leans to her and rubs his forehead against her forehead. His mandibles tickle. His purring deepens and he wraps both arms around her. In a way, he reminds her of a cat. Except he isn’t a cat. Far from a cat, aside from cats and Scar both being assholes half the time. The thought of Scar as a cat greatly amuses and slightly horrifies Alexa. She pushes the thought deep out of her mind and relaxes, willing the rest of her mind to calm just long enough so she can…

* * *

**Six a.m.**

* * *

Alexa wakes up to a different set of pelts on the bed. She wakes up not because of her watch, which beeps at a _lower_ volume, but because her body is used to stirring at such early hours. The woman’s eyes slowly flutter open. She stares at her bedroom wall. A lot hangs on her mind, and she isn’t sure where to begin picking through the pieces.

 _Was that real? Was it a dream? Or…_ Lex sits up and blushes at the realization she doesn’t have clothes on. Pelts, yes, layered over her for maximum warmth, but no _clothes_. Her hands tense into fists as she looks over the rest of the bed; she goes so far to sniff the pelts to make sure they smell normal.

The entire bed is clean. There are no signs of crusty stains on the pelts or her sheets—Which Lex realizes are different than the ones previously on her mattress. Lex fidgets as she looks at her thighs and between them. She doesn’t _feel_ anything left on her, and she doesn’t feel anything coming _out_ of her. Perhaps, if she was wearing her night clothes, if the old pelts and dirty sheets weren’t in her dirty clothes hamper in the corner, if her _ruined_ underwear wasn’t sticking halfway out of the trash, she might have considered the possibility of it all being a dream. Of _him_ being a dream.

Lex’s stomach twists as she looks over her room, then over herself. Her burns are healed, save for the one on her hand. Her body has bruises in places, namely her wrists. She remembers his weight holding her arms down and her face fills with fire. She hides her face in her hands, hoping he isn’t there to see her embarrassment. She imagines it is likely due to the fact it has been _years_ since she had an actual partner and not just a toy. She isn’t used to sharing this degree of intimacy with another.

 _And you gave it to the alien you met once sixteen years ago, Alexa._ Lex’s shoulders slump. _Bullocks. All of it. What am I doing? I have a daughter to raise and I just—_ She chides herself for a time, eventually dragging herself out of bed. She throws her watch on and fixes the alarm volume. Lex walks to her dresser and picks out clean clothes. She dresses and brushes her hair before beginning her morning rite in the bathroom, pulling out her medicine and makeup from a drawer. 

Her shriek of fear when she sees the decapitated _black serpent_ is unruly. 

* * *

**Seven a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps.

Her make-up is in place, covering her _black serpent_ mark and blending into her skin tone.

Lex puts on boots and retrieves a heavy coat. She wants it on hand in event she needs to do something out of the house, but she doesn’t _intend_ to go out. Alexa picks up the laundry hamper and steps into the hall. Aside from laundry—which usually waits until Thursday—Lex needs to put dinner on in the slow cooker.

 _Does Scar need food?_ She stills, hamper in hand. _Do I have enough meat preserved for him? Is he omnivorous?_

It is a reminder she doesn’t know much about him. Lex begins scolding herself again. She doesn’t know _anything_ about the Predator, but she’s already slept with him.

Part of her wonders if that is what he came here for. A place to stay, a bed to rest in, and a partner to fuck. The thought nauseates her, but the following realization makes her struggle not to drop the laundry hamper where she stands.

 _I don’t want him to go._ Lex bites her lip. She walks to her house’s laundry room—directly next to Kasey’s bedroom—and sets the hamper down inside. Her hands shake and the woman grits her teeth as her thoughts spin. _I don’t want him to use me like that. I don’t want us to be… that._

In part, the thought originates from the knowledge she needs to provide stability for Kasey. She will not funnel boyfriends—which Scar is not—in and out of her daughter’s life. She will not let Kasey grow attached to her alien partner—not in _that_ sense—if Scar plans to leave again.

In part, the thought also originates from her own wants.

Lex admits, in the comfort and quiet of her home, she has not let go of Antarctica.

She has not let go of _Scar._

For all the horrible things and bloodshed haunting her, the woman remembers most of her time spent in the company of the tall warrior to be utterly enthralling. Exhilarating. The rush of a lifetime, the glimpse of the worlds beyond Earth, the awareness humanity is not alone, that she is seen by another species as _worthy_ , as _honorable,_ as—

There are moments she associates with warmth. Moments she is okay remembering.

Her eyes water. She wipes them quickly, but the question lingers in her head. _Why did you come back for me?_

* * *

**Eight a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps. She adjusts the volume on it.

Kasey giggles and flicks a piece of cereal at her.

Lex’s brown eyes soften. “You want to play that game, pumpkin? I’ll have you know I was the world’s greatest cereal-flinger at your age.”

“Yeah, right,” Kasey shoves a spoonful of _Lucky Charms_ into her mouth.

* * *

**Nine a.m.**

* * *

Kasey attends her remote school in a full set of cat-themed pajamas, complete with a fleece hood to go over the head and give her tiny cat ears. She meows in a not-realistic manner as Lex rolls her eyes and walks back to the kitchen to check on the roast in the slow cooker.

* * *

**Eleven a.m.**

* * *

The phone rings from another room. Lex runs to get it. She barely registers the number on the screen before the caller goes to voicemail.

 _Camille’s house line._ Lex bites her lip. _Is she okay? Should I call back?_

She doesn’t want to, but she also doesn’t want William to drive out in the middle of a raging snowstorm. The man wears on her in a way her gut can’t identify. Lex feels guilty over her paranoia; it is a symptom of her PTSD, but the guilt lingers regardless. For all she knows—William O’Brien is an everyday man in modern day Alaska. He works, he hunts, and he likes the Pittsburgh Penguins despite living in another state; nothing out of the ordinary.

 _But he almost saw Scar._ She bites her lip at the thought of his unexpected drop-in recently. _If he had… Scar would have killed him. I would have killed him. We would have… killed him._

She listens to the voicemail, sighs, and shuts her phone. The man mentions Wanda wanting to call Kasey in the evening. Lex _knows_ her daughter enough to know when Kasey needs a break from the snow. She begrudgingly dials the house line and waits. One ring in and Camille O’Brien picks up, _“Is this Alexa Woods? Why, I’ll be—Alexa, have you seen the snow outside? You have, haven’t you?”_

Lex doesn’t have a chance to say anything for a long two minutes. She lets Camille run through her usual spiels laced with underlying questions Lex ignores. When she has the chance, she pipes up, “—Top of the morning to you, Camille. Did William just try to call me?”

_“I believe he did! Wanted to know if darling Wanda could give sweet Kasey a call this afternoon. How about it?”_

“That’s perfectly fine. Say—Around three? I’ll remember to pick up. I’m sorry I missed his call earlier.” Lex keeps her voice civil.

_“Don’t worry about a thing, Alexa—You just do what you need to do—Is everything all right there? William wanted me to ask—He thought he heard something trying to break into our lovely home last night—”_

Lex’s brown eyes widen. She takes a deep breath. “I—I mean—We’re doing fine here, Camille—But that sounds dodgy. I hope it’s only a fluke and nothing serious. Was anything damaged?”

 _“Nothing he noticed. Perhaps it was that rascally bear, or the wind—I know my lovely house here is getting up there in age, oh ho ho! Just like me, dear, just like me,”_ the old woman laughs heartily into the speaker. _“Well, my dear, I don’t mean to put you in a pickle, but I have cookies in the oven, and they need to come out. White macadamia nut—Wanda’s favorite, you see…”_

“Sounds delicious, Camille.”

_“In the future, why don’t you and sweet Kasey pop by for a plate of cookies? After this storm passes, of course.”_

“Maybe, if our schedule is open. It was nice talking to you, Camille.” Lex doesn’t pass the opportunity to hang up.

She sets the phone down, plugs it into the wall charger, and walks to the bathroom. The woman shuts the door and exhales. She opens her eyes and glances at the counter, only to shriek and flinch backward from the goddamn alien skulls poised proudly next to her sink.

* * *

**Twelve p.m.**

* * *

Lex makes cans of chicken noodle soup for lunch. The condensed soup is high in sodium, but with the weather being what it is outside, she feels like soup is a viable option. Kasey eagerly agrees; the girl sets the table while Lex stirs the soup pot with a fork.

“Oh! Mom, I need another bowl and spoon!” Kasey clambers to the dishwasher. She peeks into it, makes a face, and shuts it. “Those are dirty…”

“What do you need a bowl and spoon for, pumpkin? I thought you got them laid out already?” Lex glances over her shoulder at the table. She counts two places set.

“But—Your friend! What if your friend wants to come eat with us? Mister Scar should get soup too!” Her daughter is vigilant on looking for a clean bowl.

Lex pulls one from a cabinet and hands it to Kasey. Her lips quirk up into a smile. She doesn’t _think_ Scar eats soup, especially when he doesn’t have lips, but it’s a nice thought. She likes the fact Kasey thinks of the giant, hulking killer Predator in a positive light. If an alien were ever to kill Lex—The woman prays Scar would have the decency to watch over Kasey until her pumpkin could fly out to London and stay with her mom.

Ten minutes later, both sit down at the table and eat soup. Scar is absent, or he does not make his presence known if he is available. Lex enjoys her soup anyways; it is the perfect thing for a cold winter day.

* * *

**Three p.m.**

* * *

Right on cue, the phone rings thrice. Wanda sounds sleepy but excited as she asks for Kasey. Lex hands the phone off to her daughter and starts a movie off Netflix, opting to play _Big Hero Six_ since the two missed out on it the previous night.

Knowing Kasey—Kasey will probably ask Wanda to put on the same film so the two can talk about it while it plays. Lex smiles to herself as she heads back to the laundry room and pulls things out of the dryer. The pelts in her arms are warm and inviting, but Lex doesn’t think too hard of them. She sets them in a clean hamper and moves wet pelts and sheets from the washer to the dryer, then starts on a load of her own dirty clothes. After, the woman picks up her clean hamper and walks into her bedroom.

She spends several minutes folding pelts in silence. The different shapes and colors astound her. Some of the furs are obscenely soft yet look like they should be rough as rocks. She hums to herself as she sets that one aside and eyes the others. There are tan-colored pelts with great dark swatches of black fur, soft white pelts which appear green in her peripheral but white in the direct line of sight, pelts with spots, pelts with a marbling pattern, pelts with thin fur, pelts with thick fur, everything in-between and sharing only one similarity: none of them are from Earth.

“How long have you been hunting these?” Lex utters under her breath. She runs a hand through her hair and gives up trying to guess.

She still doesn’t know how his species perceives time. The woman’s brown eyes dim as she finishes folding the pelts and begins moving them to her closet. She narrowly avoids tripping on her own two feet, but a stack of furs in her arms goes flying. Lex sighs and bends over to pick the pelts up, already grimacing at the thought of refolding them. She drops them again when the sound of electricity crackling greets her ears, and two warm hands grab her hips.

“How are you so quiet?” She blurts out, bewildered. Lex hears Scar’s mandibles clack together in his clicking laughter. When she looks up, she confirms the Predator in her bedroom is _actually_ him. He has shut the door already.

A squeeze on her hips tells her what he’s after. Heat blooms in her stomach. Lex bites her lip as a deep purring reverberates over her back—he’s bent over her, chest to her back—and spreads through her body. It feels like _fire_ in her veins when Scar clicks at her. He wants a response.

“—Yes, I’m glad to see you too—oh,” Lex exhales sharply when one of Predator’s hands begins rubbing circles into her hip. It feels good. _Really_ good. Good enough for her not to give a fuck about the pelts on the ground.

She feels him hoist her in his arms as he straightens upright. There, her back to his chest, Scar resumes his purring. His masked face rubs against her head. She leans back against him and breathes in his musk. His heartbeats thud against her; she feels them through his thin thermal mesh. It is then she realizes he doesn’t have all of his armor on. She sees only the lower half of the set—hip guards, codpiece, shin guards, leg guards, sandals—visible.

“Where’s the rest of…” Lex trails off as the Predator purrs louder. She makes a soft noise when he lowers her to his hips and rubs them against her rear. _That_ feels nice. It fills her thoughts with lewd reminders of how the two have already embraced.

 _I want him._ She swallows. The Predator stops grinding against her and chirps.

“The bed—” Is all she gets out before she is once again unceremoniously thrown unto it, landing on her side this time. Lex grunts and sits upright, only to hear the long, needy string of clicks come from the approaching extraterrestrial.

Her brown eyes catch sight of him striding to the bed, peeling off the remaining armor as he goes. He pauses only to pull off his mesh suit. When she sees his toned legs and gorgeous thighs, it dawns on her that he will probably cut her clothes off if she doesn’t get them off quickly. Lex huffs and begins to undress, but she only gets her shirt and brassiere before Scar is on her, eagerly tucking himself over her and surrounding her body with his much larger frame. She stares up at his masked face, feeling incredibly aroused but also tiny.

Scar begins to purr again. Perhaps he senses her nerves, or maybe he just enjoys purring for her, but the hunter rubs his body against hers once she strips herself of remaining attire. Scar runs his hands over every inch of her flesh. Lex bites her lip; she whimpers softly when the alien reaches for the soft mounds of her breasts. His scales feel so _rough_ , so coarse, it elicits small cries from her when the hunter toys with her darker nipples.

He seems fascinated by them, by all of her, to the point he sits upright and spends several minutes rubbing certain parts of her body. Lex feels her pulse race in her ears; she half-yelps when Scar attempts to grab her feet.

“—No, no tickling—” She warns him, glaring. It is hard to stay angry at a seven-foot-eight wall of muscle once Scar resumes his purring. He shifts where he lays on the bed, so that she is in front of him with her back pressed into his chest muscles. She hears the soft hiss he groans when his cock bumps into her rear.

Nothing prepares her for the sensations which seize her like vultures on a carcass as the alien thrusts between her thighs. Lex fidgets at the feeling of him sliding against her. The bumps, the ridges, the scales, every last inch of him drags her nerves into ecstasy. Lex pants and attempts to grab one of his arms, but he reaches for her chest and plays one. She moans heavily now, lost in the throes of lust for him and his body.

Scar growls after breathing in near her nape. His mask nuzzles her before he shifts a hand to her pelvis. His claws graze the surface of her body; he passes by the bud of nerves there then pulls his hand back fast enough to make her sing. The pads of his fingers press into the spot. He trills in satisfaction at her moans. He purrs heavily when she begins writhing, impatient, against his hand. Scar _slowly_ rubs circles, using every second of the act to purr and thrust between her legs—but never into her.

 _Asshole!_ Is all Lex can scream in her head before her thoughts die in pleasure. She feels him prod at her sopping wet entrance. She bites her lip and relaxes her muscles, knowing the pain is but a moment for her to attain a higher pleasure.

The choked sob she makes when he thrusts into her is quickly replaced by her pleads for more. Lex clutches the blankets on her bed and clenches her teeth as she feels Scar fills her to the hilt. The end of his length throbs inside of her body. Though he begins to thrust into her—He never stops rubbing the sweet spot of pleasure on her body. His clicks and grunts become loud and hoarse as he ruts into her from behind.

The tension in her body grows from a small coil to an aching spring. Her muscles clench around him in desperation to climax, but Scar thrusts through her tightening warmth. He growls as she orgasms on him, his hand on her clit shifting to one leg. He holds it in the air and clutches her while bucking into her body; his girth stretches with a nauseating burn as she takes him.

He has _so much_ stamina. What is minutes becomes _many_ minutes as the alien holds her and trills in a mix of adoration and dominance. Lex begins to gasp with each of his sudden hip thrusts. She feels him sit upright suddenly and grab her in his arms. Lex’s face flushes red as Scar lifts her into the air with her arms pinned to her sides. She lets out a silent yelp as he drops her back unto his pulsating cock. Every inch pushes through her, then recedes, only to repeat again, again, again.

The alien’s grunts grow louder as he vigorously fucks into her and marks her as _his_.

There comes a point all she feels is the overwhelming pleasure of her nerves set alight by his body. Whenever he buries himself in her, his coarse scales at the base of his shaft rub and grind into her sensitive groin. The bumps on his cock plow into her while grazing her sore clit. Lex hiccups and lets all control of the situation fall to the hunter as he groans. He rocks into her several times, then growls in a slow, drawn-out sound of release. He chitters incessantly as he slowly pumps his climax into her body; Lex pants against him.

Her watch chooses to beep at that time. Scar growls and rips it off, tossing it unto the night table.

* * *

**Four p.m.**

* * *

She is taken from the bed directly to her bathroom, held in his arms even as his seed drips out of her. She tries not to think about how difficult it will be to clean up if it dries. Lex pants and listens as Scar turns on her shower. The naked warrior holds her against him as he climbs into the shower and sits, then begins washing them both off with _cold_ water.

The woman balks and grips him tightly when her body recognizes the temperature. She erupts in goosebumps, hissing at him only to hear his amused clicks. Lex’s teeth chatter. “Cold—Cold!”

Scar begrudgingly changes the temperature, but only to lukewarm. Lex clings to him for warmth, but it isn’t until he purrs against her body that she realizes the shower water was intentional from the start.

“You asshole.” The woman utters under her breath. She glares up at his mask but stops when one of his arms lets go of her and rises to her face. The Predator caresses her marked cheek with unusual tenderness. The kind of tenderness which makes a new plume of heat billow in her gut. She swallows her nerves and looks away.

Part of her wants to ask him if he intends to keep… _fucking_ her and then leave. Part of her wants to know if there is any substance to what the two have begun doing. Lex thinks through it quietly as Scar rubs soap over both their bodies. She shudders when he sits her up enough to reach her breasts. His purring signals his smug satisfaction at her response.

“Scar,” she realizes when she speaks—He looks at her, mask angled directly at her face. His attention belongs to her at that moment. Lex bites her lip and reaches to touch his mask. “First of all—I don’t think you need to wear that in here—”

The mask is discarded on the bathroom floor a moment later. Scar’s golden eyes meet her brown with an intensity she wants to lose herself in.

“Second. Second,” she inhales deeply when he shifts how she straddles his lap. “Second—I—”

She feels his chest rumble when her pelvis touches his emerging cock. Lex feels her heart begin racing again. She puts a hand on his chest and stares at him firmly. Scar doesn’t try to enter her; he watches her curiously, tusks occasionally clicking, but he waits for her directive.

“—I need to know something about—Us,” Lex says against the warm water falling from her showerhead. The way droplets race down Scar’s chest is difficult not to stare at. She frowns as her eyes wander to the massive scar across his torso—It looks painful. She puts her other hand on his chest and straightens up, the two’s height differences meaning even in his position she still looks up at him. “You know I have a daughter. I need—I want stability for her. And that means—I’m not going to let you drop in and out of _my_ life if—If all you want is a place to fuck.”

She gets a sudden reminder how fast he can move when Scar pulls her flush against him. His purring is deep, but intense, spreading a tingle through parts of Lex’s body until all she wants is to linger like that forever. She bites her lip as the Predator begins clicking things she doesn’t follow. Lex feels his mandibles mess with her soaked hair. She inhales the scent of him as Scar stops purring to trill at her.

Eventually, she can sit up. Scar leans down and rubs his forehead against hers.

“Look—I—” She begins, but she quiets when his golden eyes land on her once more. Lex’s chest tightens. She reaches for his face and slowly feels the shape of his mandibles. He has such different yet similar anatomy, utterly striking and so much larger than any human. Scar clicks at her, a sign to continue. Lex smiles. “If you’re here for the long run—I wouldn’t mind if—You stay here. With me.”

 _That_ catches his attention. Scar sits up and makes to stand—as much as one can in a bathroom clearly built for humans—and he carries Lex when she begins to slip from his grasp. The two exit the shower. Scar sets her on the bathroom counter next to the alien skulls. He taps the skulls then gestures at her, clicking briskly when she considers the meaning.

“…Those are for me?” Lex clarifies.

Scar chirps and stands upright in pride.

Lex inhales slowly. “They don’t get to stay in the bedroom. Or the washroom. I’ll compromise on the closet.”

She crosses her arms when the alien clicks under his breath. Neither stay ‘angry’, if such a word even applies. Lex feels him step forward between her legs and she leans back. His hands rub her arms and the Predator begins purring in a way that fills her with fire. When he leans over her and lifts her to his waist, she holds unto him and relaxes in the beat of his heart. She cries out his name when he penetrates her. Scar purrs gently and holds her until she tells him to go on. The sound of wet skin on scales becomes music to her ears as the two meet and join at the hips.

By the time Scar finishes with her, they are both sweaty, panting messes in her bathroom. All Lex can think to do is breathe heavily atop his bare chest and ask him, “You want to stay for dinner?”

* * *

**Seven p.m.**

* * *

The roast is delicious split three ways, even after Scar nearly ruins her appetite by trying to drag in a dead _something_ from outside. Lex hears his clicks of disapproval as he shuts the back door behind him, the carcass left in the thick snow and far, far away from her house.

* * *

**Nine p.m.**

* * *

By the time _Tangled_ ends, Kasey is asleep on the sofa. Lex smiles and whispers for Scar to be quiet. She picks her daughter up and carries her to her bedroom, tucking her into bed. Scar waits for her in the hallway; his golden eyes seem transfixed by the scene before him, almost admiring of her. Lex wonders what he sees. When he clicks and gestures from Kasey’s bedroom door to Lex, the woman shakes her head.

“—I would carry her up a mountain if I had to. She’s my daughter, Scar. I would do anything to see her smile—” Lex balks when she is thrown over his shoulder and hauled off to her bedroom. She hears his eager, excited clicks even as he sets her _gently_ into what she can now identify as a blanket _nest_.

Scar tilts his head at her and clicks.

“Scar—I’m almost forty, I am not having another child,” the woman states. She crosses her arms and meets his intense golden gaze. “We are also from two different species."

His response is to sit next to her, pull her against him, and begin purring softly, the kind of purr signaling affection, or warmth. Lex leans her head against him. She breathes in his scent and sighs. Scar chirps at her when she hesitates to speak.

“—I wonder. If you had come back sixteen years ago. If you would have been Kasey’s…” She trails off and lets the implication float between them. Scar holds her tighter, one hand rubbing her back. His mesh suit presses into her, but it doesn’t block out his warmth. When she says nothing more, Scar clicks softly.

Lex shuts her eyes. “Silly, right? We aren’t the same species. I barely know you. From Antarctica. Aside from Antarctica, I mean…”

She hears him huff. It sounds distinct from the sound humans make.

“But I have Kasey. And if you stick around—You’ll have Kasey, too. Is that enough for you?” She opens her eyes and draws back enough to look into his. “Can you treat her like your own?”

She is drawn back to him, wrapped up in his arm. A pelt covers the two a moment later before his other arm joins her. Scar trills gently and caresses the mark on her cheek. He resumes his purring, and though Lex doesn’t know _exactly_ what it means, she knows him enough to interpret the meaning of it: _trust me._


	6. October 6th, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa  
> ^This is more or less my thoughts on trying to write this chapter  
> pacing is not my forte but I'm not being paid for this so this is what it is,,,

**???, ???.**

* * *

The night is cruel and unforgiving.

She dreams of black serpents crawling out of the walls, engulfing her in their disgusting resin-like substance while she screams and wails and attempts to break free. She dreams of seeing the disgusting egg-shaped parasitoid aliens hatch climbing, leaping face-hugging monstrosities. She dreams of one crawling down her throat and invading her lungs as it implants an otherworldly embryo deep in the recesses of her flesh.

She dreams of the Queen, and of Scar dying again, and again, and again.

Just when she thinks she thinks she can take it no more, when she has lived and died a dozen times in the throes of the pyramid, in the depths of the closest thing an atheist calls _Hell_ , the woman experiences the same terror again.

And again.

And again.

In a way, her mind is understanding of the horrors. Part of her still experiences the grief and guilt she felt when she watched _her_ expedition team fall.

Her brain has a strange dissonance around it when she is lost in her dream state. She desperately wants to wake up, but she is the prisoner of her subconscious and all the pain inside it.

In the middle of one of the cycles of death and undeath, Alexa Woods finds herself staring at the icy landscape. A terrible, tundra-filled nightmare laden with black crystals she both understands were not present at Antarctica sixteen years past yet believes are perfectly rational and naturally placed. In this nightmare, she half-expects the Queen to emerge and murder the Predator at her side. She looks to her right, where the gleaming, golden pelt of the extraterrestrial she might one day call a _lover_ stands proudly.

Of _course,_ he’s proud!

The two have survived the harrowing experience of the pyramid. If it did not traumatize her so much, maybe she could find solace in the honor and glory he feels.

The dream’s wind whips up against her face. Lex finds herself shuddering and shaking from the cold. It is a miracle she doesn’t freeze to death right then, as her thermal jacket and insulated outer layers have since been melted off or torn away. She is left in what is far from appropriate: her pajamas, the long, silky kind. The top hugs her tightly while the bottom opens into bell-sleeve-like cuffs for her feet to poke out of.

 _And my feet._ Somewhere, the unconscious woman is vaguely aware she doesn’t wear socks in the dream. She should get frostbite _immediately_ from the frigid temperatures of Antarctica, but her toes are fine. She can’t control them, but they aren’t turning black and falling off, nor swelling with frostbite-induced blisters. Not yet.

A strange, soft rumbling noise comes from nearby. Alexa’s dream self blinks slowly. She cannot control the outcome of the dream, but for a moment her brain latches unto the noise. She struggles to place it, reigning it in as familiar yet unable to conjure enough mental processes to piece where it is from.

It is then she notices the Predator at her side. Scar has moved, silent steps true to the nature of him in and out of her dreams. Alex’s dreamy brown eyes dim as she watches him approach. The rumbling noise increases in volume. In her head, somewhere, the woman suddenly understands: the sound comes from him. It calls to her, a comfort among the snowy hellscape she suffers within. Hesitantly, the woman takes one step forward. Then another. She meets Scar halfway, reaching for him, seeking the warmth she _knows_ he possesses, but finding nothing.

He does not stand before her proud and haughty. The warrior is collapsed on the ground in a spray of green blood. Nearby, multiple obsidian-hued carapaces unravel from the encroaching darkness and rise with loud screeches. Lex stares in horror as they circle and descend upon the duo. She tries to open her mouth and scream, to beg for forgiveness, to plead for them to _take her_ and _leave him alone_ , but she is no match for the Queens in her head. She becomes victim to their serrated talons and razor-sharp claws, their blanche white inner jaws, and their towering, thundering strength, just as the rumble spikes in volume.

Lex wakes up with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

**October 6 th, Five a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps. She doesn’t register it. She doesn’t know where she is at first, with most of the room covered in shadows. A warm body— _hot, hot, hot_ —has her pulled tightly against him. Lex’s mind briefly malfunctions as she struggles remembering the date, the year, the _everything_ –and then it comes back to her, bit-by-bit, to the tune of the rugged, muscled figure purring into her back. Lex hiccups and tries to sit up. She feels Scar tense before his grip loosens enough for her to move.

Much like before, she has been cleaned up. The two are covered in warm pelts, none of which she recognizes as creatures from Earth. The woman hiccups and wipes her eyes. She hears Scar move, feels him click for her, nuzzle her neck, but when she says nothing, the Predator purrs louder. He scoops her back against him before she has time to protest, positioning her a different way than before. His chest, covered in tiny stubs of growing quills, presses into her own as she stares up at his gleaming gold eyes.

His hand touches one of the tear streaks running down her cheeks. Alexa feels heat crawl into her face, and she clenches her eyes shut. A swell of shame rakes her form. _See, Scar? I’m not the honorable warrior you think I am. I’m not… I’m not capable. It was a fluke. Always a fluke._

The hunter’s clawtips slowly slide across her cheeks. He traces the streaks of tears then clicks with a degree of what she _might_ consider concern. Alexa opens her eyes enough to peek at him. The Yautja resumes purring, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers, to cup the side of her face where the mark is seared into her flesh, to use his free arm to pull her body against his own hard enough for the nubs of growing quills to press into her pajamas shirt.

Alexa bites her lip. “I’m sorry if I—woke you up.”

Scar trills softly at her. He clutches her closer. The hand on her cheek falls to her shoulder and the alien begins rubbing circles into her flesh. There is a gleam in the extraterrestrial’s eyes, as if he understands and _knows_ something is amiss.

When she says nothing, Scar rumbles against her. His hands wander her body. It is not in the sexual way she knows _very_ well by this point. It is another form of intimacy: soft touches, gentler than she imagined possible for how strong he is, caressing and massaging her flesh. She leans into his touch, as desperate now as she was when asleep. She closes her eyes and exhales, imagining a world where the two and Kasey can be safe from all the awful things in the universe. She imagines, and imagines, until she feels Scar return his hand to her cheek and caress it. Her eyes open and meet his just in time for the pad of his thumb to trace her lower lip.

He cares about her. 

She leans into him, pressing her head against his upper torso and breathing in his scent. The Predator purrs softly as she clutches him, feels him, holds him desperately against her. Her eyes squeeze shut after a time; she clings to him and shudders from the recollection of seeing his death play out a thousand times in her sleep.

“I…” Alexa grits her teeth. “I keep dreaming of—Antarctica. Watching you die. Over. Over. Over. Leaving me alone—I—"

She hears the extraterrestrial stop in his soothing noises. Scar chirps at her.

She does not speak his language, but she picks up enough in his tone and voice to understand what he _wants_ to convey.

_I’m not dead._

“But I, I thought you were. I believed it. I believed you left—That I was—I was—I was alone in this damn universe,” Alexa loosens her grasp on him and sighs. She turns her back to the alien. Scar clicks rapidly a moment before Alexa exhales. “—I told you. My mind is—I’m still in the pyramid. I’m still in Antarctica. I’m still… I’m reliving the past—And—I worry—You’ll leave me again—”

Alexa gasps softly as the extraterrestrial pushes her unto her back and climbs on top of her. The man’s golden eyes shine with things she isn’t sure of, things she wants but questions, things, things, always more _things_ , but this time the things are mixed in with concern. What she believes is concern. Lex stares at the Predator on top of her, but her eyes flutter shut when she feels him lower his body to hers.

_I’m here._

“I know,” she whispers softly. “I know—But I can’t—I can’t _make_ my brain accept that—"

Scar briefly pauses his purring to growl. Alexa sighs, but soon melts underneath his body as he purrs and rumbles for her. His hand cups her face and he rubs the pad of his thumb against the honor mark.

 _I’m here,_ he reminds her without speaking. _I’m here._

“Remind me,” the need overwhelms her in a heartbeat. “Please, Scar—Remind me—You’re here—”

It shifts the atmosphere in the room drastically. At first—The extraterrestrial pauses, as if not believing or processing her words. Then the Predator’s purring ends and deepens into a husky rumble. Alexa exhales and reaches for him, pulling his forehead against hers. She moans softly as his hands begin to wander, with some fingers teasing in places only to move on. The moan triggers Scar to lose some impulse control; the Predator clicks and hisses as he tugs at her clothes.

Alexa’s face lights up. She pushes against Scar and sits up. His hand touches her hip while she pulls off her pajamas shirt and wriggles out of her pants and underwear. Scar growls and he seizes a breast in both hands. His scaly reptilian fingers clutch and knead her flesh while she pants and presses into him.

“Scar—” Lex keens when her alien lover’s mandibles spread and caress her skin. Goosebumps spread across her flesh. Heat coils in her abdomen and she grabs one hand, moving it lower even as the Predator peels his mandibles and inner jaws away. She breathes in short, shallow pants, unable to breathe in anything but _him_ on the bed with _her_. “Touch me—!”

The woman is pressed into the bed, her back hitting pelts she doesn’t recognize. Alexa’s mouth hangs ajar. She looks up with half-lidded eyes, mind lost to the wildfire burning in her bones. When Scar trails her form with his eyes, the human breathes wildly and bucks her hips at him. He gets the hint; a second later the Predator parts her legs. Lex struggles to care about taking things slowly; she needs the reassurance he brings, the comfort of his warmth, and the strength of his body backing up hers should things escalate with the black serpents in the landscape.

By any cosmic deities who look upon her and laugh—She _needs_ him.

She balks and gasps when several reptilian digits press into her, sliding past her vulva and pushing inside with careful force. Scar growls loudly, a demand for her submission, and Lex eagerly gives him it. She yowls and keens loudly as Scar fingers her with two fingers. When he scissors the fingers and twists them inside her, the woman utters a muffled curse. She clamps her hand over her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. The Predator growls at her, ceasing in his ministrations until Lex opens her eyes and looks at him.

His golden eyes are so _beautiful._

She can’t look away. The woman pants hard and sweats heavily as Scar resumes pumping claw-tipped fingers into her body. Her legs strain to wrap around the Predator’s massive, hulking, muscular form. When she can’t, when it is clear he is just _too big_ to accommodate her paltry attempts to contribute to the two’s copulation, Lex grits her teeth and thinks a thousand expletives. She gasps and throws her head back when the alien’s fingers massage a succulent sweet point inside her.

“Scar—Scar,” the woman breathes his name, calling for him, _begging_ to tip over the edge. “Scar, Scar, _Scar!”_

She cries aloud and makes a choked noise as her body tenses and locks up around him. The Predator purrs deeply as Lex rides the high of her orgasm. She whimpers and pants hard beneath his form. When Scar begins to draw away and position his throbbing cock against her body, Lex whimpers again. She stares at the alien’s length. She ogles the girth. She takes deep breaths while Scar nudges her legs into the right places, propped up on her bed instead of draping over his hips.

The head of his penis feels divine. Lex bites her lip as the Predator massages the tip against her vulva.

Then—He presses in with the force of a well-experienced hunter. The precision of his strokes, the way he pierces her at _just_ the perfect angle, the touch of his bare body against hers, of his thighs rubbing her legs while he towers over her and pins her to the bed—perfect, just _perfect._ Lex gasps at the raw pleasure ebbing from it.

Stuffed as she feels, it is _incredible_ , and the stretch is nowhere near as extreme as she remembers it. The burn is faint. She grabs hold of Scar to steady herself as he growls and bucks into her. A hand comes down and holds her close to him while he begins thrusting wildly into her eager flesh. Lex gasps and exclaims lewd syllables while Scar has his way with her eager, willing body. She offers all of herself to him: every inch of flesh to touch, every past nightmare to destroy, every ounce of relief at his face, _everything_ she knows is taken and claimed by Scar, his cock, _him, him, him_.

The base of his shaft smacks into her pelvis when he bottoms out. The rough skin-slapping noise makes Lex grip the alien tighter. She bites into his hide to hide the scream which crawls out after Scar picks up in a vigorous spree of pounding her. The act only seems to make Scar more excited; the Predator becomes rough and wild as he mates her over and over. Lex’s mouth is covered by a hand more than once; Scar is just as intent as she is on keeping the two’s activities .

“Mmmmgh,” Lex cannot utter _‘Scar’_ though she tries. Her toes curl.

He lets go of her mouth, lifts her up, and presses her chest to his. Scar rumbles deeply before he continues gyrating the two’s hips together. As the two connect in the flesh, both individual’s breathing shortens. There is a desperation in Alexa’s body as she grabs at the Predator’s face and moans his name. Scar trills wildly and bucks into her. She melts into his chest, clutching and clawing for more as the Predator gives her what she needs.

Alexa arrives at her climax with her legs awkwardly fumbling around the alien’s large, toned hips. She buries her face in his chest, gasps, and whimpers when her mind blanks in the encroaching pleasure. Her body squeezes Scar and she cries out as she rides the high with thrusting pleasure. Scar is a man of stamina, she knows, and he continues to grunt and rumble as he takes what he needs of her. The bumps of his cock, the lubricant excreted from glands along the side of his shaft, it fills her and grinds against her flesh, scours her warmth, and stimulates her to new heights. Lex’s chest heaves.

“Scar, I,” the woman mumbles, a flutter in her chest as the alien hits a sweet spot inside. She croons and keens when Scar adjusts his angles and smacks into the point of pleasure. The Predator begins to grunt faster, louder, _harder_ , until he throws his head back and hisses with sharp jabs of ecstasy fueling his climax.

Alexa winces when he slows, an unsatisfied cliff looming before her in the aftermath of being pleasured past her second orgasm. She bites her lip. Scar trills at her and rubs his head against her temple. It is a gesture of affection, but she groans against him and tries—fails—to roll her hips over his flaccid cock.

The Predator pauses, breathes, and begins clicking what sounds like questions.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Lex assures him, smiling faintly. “It was—It was… I enjoyed it.”

She whines as he pulls out, dragging the nobs and ridges of his cock against her swollen, sensitive flesh on the way out. She exhales when the Predator picks her up, throwing her over a shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and walks to the bathroom. The two shower together, her straddling his lap, facing him, while warm water cascades over the two.

* * *

**Six a.m.**

* * *

She hears her watch go off in her bedroom, near her broken bed. The shower feels too good to leave. Lex picks up a bar of soap and begins to run it up and down her body, only to still and stare when Scar chirps at her. Her brown eyes narrow on him. “Are you asking me to wash you?”

Scar wriggles beneath her, bumping her still tender pelvis against the cartilage-hard sheathe on his groin. He chirps again.

Lex’s lips quirk up at the edge. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

When the two are done, with Lex explaining the concept of ‘squeaky clean’ to a species she is _certain_ have their own ways of eliminating germs and bacteria, the woman lets Scar help her with her makeup.

She shows him the drawer and observes how the massive alien handles her makeup and brushes with an unusual gentleness. Her surprise shows when Scar lines up the makeup in the order it is used. He clicks at her then puffs up his chest.

“Thanks, big guy,” Lex says, smile growing. “I noticed you arranged them the other day. I know you don’t care for it, but it’s… It’s important to me.”

Scar’s throat rumbles in response.

* * *

**Seven a.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps.

It doesn’t take her long to finish her morning routine, get dressed, and sort through pelts in need of washing and dirty clothes. The clothes go into a hamper, and the pelts directly into the wash. It quickly brings up a new problem, in that the only real ‘clothes’ Scar has is a leathery loincloth and mesh netting to conceal himself, and the loincloth _reeks_ of sweat and grime. She refuses to let him meander about the house in it, fixing a towel about his pelvis and groin and securing it in place with a belt. It looks a little silly, but Scar doesn’t appear to mind.

 _Hopefully not… Wouldn’t be my cup of tea._ Alexa thinks, holding in a snort.

* * *

**Eight A.M.**

* * *

Her watch beeps.

She has breakfast ready by the time Kasey is awake, her daughter begrudgingly walking into the kitchen with tired eyes and hair ensnared in a pink hair cap. She is still in her pajamas, conveniently themed after Princess Aurora’s pink dress in _Sleeping Beauty,_ but the look on Kasey’s face tells Alexa all she needs to know. She smiles and pulls plates and cutlery out to set the table. Kasey mumbles a sleepy _morning_ and grabs a biscuit.

“Sleep well, pumpkin?” Lex sits across the kitchen table from Kasey. The latter groans and slumps, making Lex frown. “That bad?”

“I had an awful dream! Really bad one,” her daughter munches on a biscuit, but soon eyes the jar of fruit preserves. Lex holds back a grin when Kasey snatches it, opens it, and begins smearing the preserves over her biscuit.

She takes a bite and begins to speak, but Lex interrupts her, “Finish chewing first, pumpkin.”

No sooner than Kasey downs her fruity biscuit does she reach for a second one and repeats the fruit-preserve process, adding dollops of the preserves until it begins to tilt and droop off the edge unto Kasey’s plate. She pauses, voice lighter yet not as chipper as it could be. “It was a bad dream. I was cold—”

“Do you need more blankets?” Lex frowns.

“No, I wasn’t _cold_ cold… Just… In my dream. I was really cold! And I was in my room and looking out the window,” Kasey points at the bowl of scrambled eggs on the table. Lex passes it to her; she smiles when Kasey serves both of them.

“Thanks,” Lex smiles and begins eating. The eggs are nothing special, with only cheese, pepper, and salt added, but they fill her stomach. 

“—Then,” Kasey resumes as she stabs a chunk of yellow scrambled egg with her fork. “I was looking outside my window. Right? I looked—And—I saw a black shape out there! Like… Kind of like the thing… The thing that tried to hurt us.”

 _Black serpent._ Her cheek burns. Lex feels any joy or peace in her heart dissipate instantly as the reminder of what remains _somewhere in the snow_ comes crawling back up her spine. She feels ill suddenly; the woman retains her smile and inhales deeply as she watches Kasey eat. She doesn’t want to show her daughter how _terrified_ she is. Lex doesn’t want to scare her or make her worry about otherworldly monstrosities when she has more important things to consider, like school.

“I saw it come closer. Really close,” Kasey continues, waving her not-yet-consumed egg around on her fork. Her daughter frowns widely. “It was ugly. I didn’t like it. I got so cold, mom. I looked at my hands and they were blue. Not a pretty blue, but like a blue that I don’t like.”

 _Coincidence. It must be a coincidence. Please._ Lex exhales silently. She brushes a strand of hair behind one ear and nods. “It—It sounds like it wasn’t pleasant, pumpkin. I’m sorry—”

She pauses when she sees water droplets appear on the kitchen floor. Lex squints at the realization the droplets form a trail leading to the corner of the kitchen _._ She pushes her seat back and leaves Kasey to stare at her curiously while the woman walks over to the corner.

A _very_ muscular body springs into view as the sound of something shorting out mixes with electricity crackling. Lex yelps and jumps backward, landing on her butt and staring gobsmacked at the Predator.

Scar clacks his mandibles together in laughter, slightly muffled from the mask affixed to his face. Lex growls at him, but stops when her daughter squeals from the table, “Mom!! Did you see that? That was _cool!_ He appeared out of nowhere!”

“You can just… You can walk around in here. It’s okay, no one else is here right now,” Lex points out. The Predator chirps in response and rises to his full height, the domineering seven-foot-eight towering over her with ease. She looks him up and down and pauses when she realizes he not only has foregone his towel wrap, but the Predator is once again wearing the gross, dirty loincloth.

Which she threw in the wash.

The woman balks. “Did you restart the wash cycle? Scar—” Lex stares when the Predator walks past her, content as a clam in his soaking wet loincloth. She grimaces internally when he pulls a chair out and sits in it with an awkward hunch from his long, muscular legs and torso. Lex grabs paper towels and wipes up the mess on the floor. She leaves Kasey and Scar alone to run and restart the washing machine before she returns to the table with a scowl. “I’m gutted you interrupted my laundry to put _that_ thing on.”

He clicks and trills at her, then grabs the serving bowl of scrambled eggs. He gestures at the bowl, then points at his mask.

Kasey frowns. “You shouldn’t wear your costume when we eat. Might get it dirty—"

“Pumpkin—Why don’t you get ready for school?” Lex cuts in, not quite ready for her daughter to know the extraterrestrial’s _alien_ features.

“Can I wear my pajamas?” The child perks upright. She wriggles out of her seat and stands then does a spin. “I like these pajamas! They’re comfy and easy to wear!”

“I don’t see why not,” Lex smiles as her daughter giggles and runs off to the living room.

When she is alone, she exhales and looks at Scar. The Predator tilts his head to one side and clicks at her. Lex shakes her head and begins cleaning up. She pretends not to notice the Predator attempting to stuff egg underneath his mask and into his mandibles.

* * *

**Twelve P.M.**

* * *

Lex fumbles around her bedroom in search of her flip phone. She locates it in the crevices of the _clean_ blanket… pelt… _nest?_ The woman finds the thought amusing. _Does Scar’s species build nests? …He doesn’t expect me to lay eggs, does he? I don’t… I’m not…_

She glances at her abdomen. Having Kasey was a disconcerting experience; she doesn’t _want_ to deal with… _Scientists? Doctors? The Head of the CIA?_ in her reproductive organs again. One kid is enough for her, and Kasey better be enough for Scar.

 _Trust me,_ is what he conveyed when she talked about children, about Kasey, about her and Kasey being a package deal and not one over the other. _Trust me._

She finds her phone, dead, in the corner of her room. The woman frowns as she plugs it in to charge. She holds the power button and watches the screen come alive, along with a notification for _low battery_.

“I know that,” Lex mutters under her breath. She frowns when she sees a _missed call_ notification.

It’s from Camille O’Brien.

The woman pauses, thinking about the call the previous day. The door creaks open and Lex stiffens where she kneels next to her phone. She looks over her shoulder and spots Scar slip through the door, shutting it behind him. He turns around and chirps, though the mask muffles the sound.

“Scar,” Lex rises to her feet as the Predator crosses to her. She peers at his mask visors, imagining the golden gaze beyond it. “Do you… If I asked you to check on someone for me—Could you?”

He tilts his head at her.

“The O’Briens—They live two miles out from here,” Lex describes the building. She looks to the side. “The man who lives there—William—He’s helped me when I’ve needed it. Put a new door on the other day. Even if it’s steel…”

She grimaces at the memory. In retrospect, the man did not help her the way she needed him. But Lex will not hold a grudge against him. The O’Briens are good people, even if she has a different perspective than either adult in that family.

Scar is quiet.

Lex shakes her head. “They’re only human, Scar. Human… If a black serpent hunts them… They’ll all die. I don’t want that.”

The Predator tilts his head to one side. Lex admires how his long locs fall down the sides of his head, over his shoulders and back. Briefly, she wonders if he is considered handsome by his species. He is muscular enough for her to appreciate, ogle, and admire. The scars on his body are signs of his strength in battle, in his ability to _survive._

 _He survived the pyramid,_ Alexa remembers. _With me._

Her thoughts take her aback. She stills, temporarily distracted by her thoughts. _How long has it been since I… Since I looked at it that way? Since I thought I… survived the pyramid?_

“Only. Human…” The side of Scar’s mask flashes three blue dots as it cycles through different clips of _her_ voice. “Human…”

“Yes, they’re—They’re human. Scar.” The woman frowns. “Can you help them?”

The string of chirps and clicks Scar emits confuses her. The noises are not the affirmative kind she understands. He sounds dissatisfied with her request. She bites her lip and stares at him, gut twisting uncomfortably the longer he chirrups. Lex tenses her hands into fists, suddenly uncertain he will help at all.

For all she knows, the only reason he behaves around Kasey is because Kasey is _hers_.

“Why not,” the mask’s nodule flashes blue again, replaying words in _Kasey_ ’s voice. The clip cuts out and a new one sounds, “All die.”

Lex balks. “Why not—Why not? Scar—I can’t—I don’t want to leave them to die! The O’Briens are kind—They’ve done so much for Kasey and I—They are living, breathing folks! Shouldn’t that be enough?”

The Predator growls lowly. He begins clicking incessantly, going on and on to the point Lex struggles to make out pitch or tone. She stares up at his mask, her mind spinning with thoughts. _He doesn’t… He doesn’t view things the same way. Why would he? He isn’t a human, Alexa. He’s an alien. You went and screwed a bloody alien… Sex with a human doesn’t make them change who they are, why would sex with an alien be different?_

She thinks back to the way he held her that morning, and the night before. The behemoth was so _gentle_ with her.

 _Was he?_ Guilt crawls up her throat.

In some ways, Scar _had_ been rough with her. He had grabbed her, pinned her, and fucked her with zeal. In the moment, she remembers it as _passion_ , but Lex realizes just how skewed her perspective is. She knows she is touch-starved, nigh alone in the wilds of Alaska with minimal human contact for her and Kasey’s safety.

A hand brushes her make-up laden cheek. Lex snaps out of her thoughts.

Scar caresses her cheek with the same gentleness.

 _The mark of honor. He wouldn’t care about me if I was… If I wasn’t marked._ Her eyes widen. She brushes Scar’s hand off her.

He chirps at her and steps back, but he does not leave.

“Can you help them?” Lex asks, lifting her eyes back to the extraterrestrial’s visor.

The growl Scar makes rumbles through his throat, full of ire.

Lex shivers, suddenly aware of what she asks. It is clear Scar’s kind looks upon humanity as lesser, if the way they nonchalantly murdered her expedition party is anything to go off. She knows she is not much better, as she agreed to his idea of blowing the damn pyramid sky high, not wanting to waste a second looking for potential survivors. _Her_ selfishness saved her, along with his help.

 _I’m no better._ She grits her teeth. _I’m no better. But I won’t let the O’Briens meet the same fate—_

“No.” The three dots on the nob protruding from Scar’s mask flash blue. The voice clip is not one she recognizes.

_No._

He won’t help them.

“Please,” Lex repeats her request. She squares the much taller individual up and stares at Scar’s mask. “Please help them. For me?”

It is manipulative of her, but the whole situation is too surreal for her to dwell on it. Later, Lex knows, she will chide and scold herself over her inability to communicate simple things to others, but right _now_ she is too distraught to care. Her desperation seeps through her voice. Her brown eyes wetten but she holds back the urge to cry even when Scar repeats the voice clip. _No._

“Why not?” She challenges his decision.

Scar hisses in response.

“That’s not—I don’t accept that,” Alexa says. When Scar hisses again, part of her snaps. “I won’t accept that!”

She feels herself losing patience. When Scar attempts to step close, she steps back. Her body tenses at the sound of the man purring deeply, the noise filling the air and overwhelming her. Lex exhales sharply, part of the tension instinctively _wanting_ to lift. Her mind twists and she struggles to reign in her urges to melt against the Predator when he steps forward and closes the gap. Alexa shuts her eyes and breathes in his scent, her mind briefly overwhelmed by how damn good the bastard smells. The purring is so _soothing,_ calming her as Scar holds her to his chest.

Her body doesn’t want to react the way her mind screams. She yearns for him to lift her and take her against the wall, to ravish every inch of her flesh and shut out the darkness the pyramid brought on her, but Alexa’s will prevails against her desire for intimacy. She chokes words against him, hissing out, “Let—Go—Of— _Me!”_

The hunter tenses but releases her. Alexa tears herself away from the individual she longs to connect with. She backs up until she trips over her bed and falls into the blankets. She is just as quick to get to her feet as Scar is to click at her.

“Don’t,” She warns him. “Don’t. Just—Don’t.”

Scar falls quiet. He tilts his head, mask angled as if eyeballing her. Lex refuses to look away, spurned by newfound resolve. 

“—said it’s dang’rous!” The voice clip Scar’s mask plays sounds like a person from the southern states.

Lex pauses. _Dangerous? Why would the O’Briens be dangerous?_

She knows Wanda wouldn’t hurt a fly. Camille is too old to move quickly, and while she retains suspicions of William, Alexa reminds herself the man has never _actually_ done something to warrant red flags. Her paranoia and hyper vigilance from her PTSD have taken her thoughts and twisted them on end, molding them to provoke fear and anxiety when she thinks of the world outside her small Alaskan bubble.

 _He didn’t listen to what I wanted for the door. But he… He isn’t a bad man. Not dangerous. Not like how Scar… wait._ Lex pauses, pursing her lips. She feels strange, as if weighed down by an invisible force. The woman looks at Scar. “How are they dangerous? Scar—How are they dangerous to _you?_ I know you’re capable of defending yourself. That’s how we… That was the pyramid.”

Scar trills at her, loud and boisterous. He walks to her and lifts a hand to her head. It feels nice having it in her hair, toying with the fine black tresses. The Predator clicks firmly.

 _Oh._ She understands. Lex’s eyes widen. “Dangerous to me?”

Scar chirps.

“Dangerous to Kasey?”

He chirps again.

Lex holds a hand over her mouth. “How? How can… There must be some mistake—”

“—dang’rous!” Scar’s mask repeats.

“Wanda’s not,” the woman blurts out. She pushes his hand off her. Scar huffs at her. Lex ignores him and goes on. “Wanda—Wanda is my pumpkin’s best friend, Scar. She’s a _child_. She can’t be involved in… In what you’re saying. Even if someone else _was,”_ Lex finds herself defending the O’Briens willingly, teetering on disbelief. “Wanda can’t be involved! If a serpent finds her—It will kill her, Scar, it will—You can’t let her die! She’s a bloody _child!”_

* * *

**One p.m.**

* * *

Her watch beeps. Alexa doesn’t care. Her mind is too hung up on the conversation at hand, on the alien nearby, on the mash of feelings and thoughts, impulses and desires clashing and spurring strife inside her head. The woman wants to crawl into her bed, into the blanket fort, and nap until springtime.

She can’t. She _won’t._

Alexa Woods will not let what happened to the expedition team happen to the O’Briens.

She stares at Scar and waits.

She doesn’t get an answer. Scar gives no response as he turns and stalks to her door. He doesn’t slam it, but the alien doesn’t open it calmly. His steps are silent as he leaves her behind. Lex’s gaze dims long after he leaves. She sits on her bed and holds her head in her hands.

 _Please help them,_ the woman touches the cheek with now-smudged makeup. _Please._


End file.
